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^ 


n 


.   FROM    THE 


OAK  TO  THE   OLIVE. 


A  Plain  Record  of  a  Pleasant  Journey, 


BY 


JULIA   WARD    HOWE, 


BOSTON: 
LEE     AND      SHEPARD, 

i86S. 

^"     J- 


Eiitereil,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  (lie  year  ISfiS,  by 

JULIA    WAHD    HOWE. 

Ill  tlio  <'lcrk"s  Onice  of  the  District  Court  of  tlie  District  of  Massaclmsctfs. 


STEREOTYPED    AT    THE 

BOSTON     STEREOTYPE     FOUNDRY, 

r.l  Spring  Lane. 


TO 


S.   G.   H., 


THE  STRENUOUS  CHAMPION  OF  GREEK  LIBERTY 
AND  OF  HUMAN  RIGHTS, 

IS   OFFERED    SUCH   SMALL   HOMAGE   AS   THE 

DEDICATION   OF   THIS   VOLUME 

CAN   CONFER. 


CONTENTS. 


FAOE 

Preliminaries i 

The  Voyage 3 

Liverpool. 9 

Chester  —  Lichfield.-. ii 

London 17 

St.  Paul's  —  The  Japanese. 23 

Society 28 

The  Channel 36 

Paris  and  Thence 37 

Marseilles 42 

Rome 45 

St.  Peter's 50 

Supper  of  the  Pilgrims. 55 

Easter .        •  58 

Works  of  Art. 60 

Piazza  Navona  —  The  Tombola. 65 

Sundays  in  Rome 70 

Catacombs 74 

Via  Appia  and  the   Columbaria 81 

Naples  —  The  Journey 88 

The  Museum 92 

(V) 


VI  CONTENTS. 

i'A<;r, 

Naples  —  Excursions. 96 

The  Capuchin. 102 

Baja 106 

Capri. .110 

Sorrento.      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         •         .         .119 

Florence. 122 

Palazzo  Pitti 124 

Venice 133 

Greece  and  the  Voyage  thither.           ....  153 

Svra. 164 

PiRiEus  —  Athens 169 

Expeditions — Nauplia 175 

Argos I  S3 

Egina. 196 

Days  in  Athens. 198 

Excursions.       .........  205 

IIymettus 214 

Items. 221 

The  Palace. 222 

The  Cathedral 227 

The  Missionaries 231 

The  Piazza 234 

Departure 237 

Return  Voyage 239 

Farther 249 

Fragments ^ 253 

Flying  Footsteps 270 

Munich 275 

.Switzerland 2S4 

The  Great  Exposition. 290 

PicTiREs  in  Antwerp 299 


FEOM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 


Preliminaries. 


Not  being,  at  this  moment,  in  the  pay  of  any  press, 
whether  foreign  or  domestic,  I  will  not,  at  this  my 
third  landing  in  English  country,  be  in  haste  to  accom- 
plish the  correspondent's  office  of  extroversion,  and  to 
expose  all  the  inner  processes  of  thought  and  of  nature 
to  the  gaze  of  an  imaginary  public,  often,  alas  !  a  delu- 
sory one,  and  difficult  to  be  met  with.  No  individual 
editor,  nor  joint  stock  company,  bespoke  m}-  emotions 
before  my  departure.  I  am,  therefore,  under  no  obliga- 
tion to  furnish  for  the  market,  with  the  elements  of 
time  and  of  postage  unhandsomely  curtailed.  Instead, 
then,  of  that  breathless  steeple  chase  after  the  butterfly 
of  the  moment,  with  whose  risks  and  hurry  I  am  inti- 
mately acquainted,  I  feel  myself  enabled  to  look  around 
me  at  every  step  which  I  shall  take  on  paper,  and  to 
represent,  in  my  small  literary  operations,  the  three 
dimensions  of  time,  instead  of  the  flat  disc  of  the 
present. 

And  first  as  to  my  pronoun.      The  augmentative  We 

(1) 


2  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    TJIE    OLIVK. 

is  essential  for  newspaper  writing,  bccanse  people  are 
liable  to  be  horsewhipped  for  what  they  put  in  the 
sacred  columns  of  a  daily  journal.  ITc  may  represent 
a  vague  number  of  individuals,  less  inviting  to,  and 
safer  from,  the  cowhide,  than  the  provoking  cg07net 
ipse.  Or  perhaps  the  We  derives  from  the  New  Testa- 
ment incorporation  of  devils,  whose  name  was  legion, 
for  we  arc  many.  In  the  Fichtean  philosophy,  also, 
there  are  three  pronouns  comprised  in  the  personal 
unity  whose  corporeal  effort  applies  this  pen  to  this 
paper,  to  wit,  the  /absolute,  the  /  limited,  and  the  / 
resulting  from  the  union  of  these  two.  So  that  a  phi- 
losopher may  say  ice  as  well  as  a  monarch  or  a  penny- 
a-liner.  Yet  I,  at  the  present  moment,  incline  to  fall 
back  upon  my  record  of  baptism,  and  to  confront  the 
white  sheet,  whose  blankness  I  trust  to  overcome,  in 
the  character  of  an  agent  one  and  indivisible. 

Nor  let  it  be  supposed  that  these  preliminary  remarks 
unden'alue  the  merits  and  dignity  of  those  who  write 
for  ready  money,  whose  meals  and  travels  are  at  the 
expense  of  mysterious  corporations,  the  very  cocktail 
which  fringes  their  daily  experience  being  thrown  in  as 
a  brightener  of  their  wits  and  fancies.  Thus  would  I, 
too,  have  written,  had  anybody  ordered  me  to  do  so. 
I  can  hurry  up  my  hot  cakes  like  another,  when  there 
is  any  one  to  pay  for  them.  IJut,  leisure  being  accord- 
ed me,  I  shall  stanil  with  my  tablets  in  the  market- 
place, hoping  in  the  enil  to  receive  my  penny,  upon  a 
footing  of  equality  with  those  who  have  borne  the  bur- 
den  and  heat  of  the  day. 


THE    VOYAGE.  3 

With  the  rights  of  translation,  however,  ah'eady 
arranged  for  in  the  Russian,  Sclavonian,  Ilindustanee, 
and  Fijian  dialects,  I  reserve  to  niNSelf  the  right  to  con- 
vert my  pronoun,  and  to  write  a  chapter  in  we  when- 
ever the  individual  /  shall  seem  to  be  insufficient. 
With  these  little  points  agreed  upon  beforehand,  to 
prevent  mistakes,  —  since  a  book  always  represents  a 
bargain,  —  I  will  enter,  without  further  delay,  upon 
what  I  intend  as  a  very  brief  but  cogent  chronicle  of 
a  third  visit  to  Europe,  the  first  two  having  attained  no 
personal  record. 

The  Voyage. 

The  steamer  voyage  is  now  become  a  fact  so  trite  and 
familiar  as  to  call  for  no  special  illustration  at  these 
or  any  other  hands.  Yet  voyages  and  lives  resemble 
each  other  in  many  particulars,  and  differ  in  as  many 
others.  Ours  proves  almost  unprecedented  for  smooth- 
ness, as  well  as  for  safety.  We  start  on  the  fatal 
Wednesday,  as  twice  before,  exjDecting  the  fatal  pang. 
Our  last  vicarious  purchase  on  shore  was  a  box  of 
that  energetic  mustard,  so  useful  as  a  counter-irritant 
in  cases  of  internal  commotion.  The  bitter  partings 
are  over,  the  dear  ones  heartily  commended  to  Heaven, 
we  see,  as  in  a  dream,  the  figure  of  command  mount- 
ed upon  the  paddle-box.  We  cling  to  a  camp  stool 
near  the  red  smoke-stack,  and  cruelly  murmur  to  the 
two  rosy  neophytes  who  are  our  companions,  "  In 
five  minutes  you  will  be  more  unhappy  than  3'ou  ever 
were  or  ever   dreamed  of  being."      They  reply   with 


4  IROM    TIIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

sweet,  unconscious  looks  of  wonder,  that  ignorance  of 
clanger  which  tlie  recruit  carries  into  his  fust  battle, 
or  whicli  carries  him  into  it.  IJut  five  niiinites  pass, 
and  twelve  times  five,  and  the  moment  for  going  below 
does  not  come.  In  the  expected  shape,  in  fact,  it  does 
not  arrive  at  all.  \Ve  do  not  resolve  upon  locomotion, 
nor  venture  into  the  dining  saloon  ;  but  leaning  back 
upon  a  borrowed  chaise  longue^  we  receive  hurried 
and  fragmentary  instalments  of  victuals,  and  discuss 
with  an  improvised  acquaintance  the  aspects  of  for- 
eign and  domestic  travel.  The  plunge  into  the  state- 
room at  bedtime,  and  the  crawl  into  the  narrow  berth, 
are  not  without  their  direr  features,  which  tlie  sea- 
smells  and  confined  air  aggravate.  We  hear  bad 
accounts  of  A,  B,  and  C,  but  our  neophytes  patrol  the 
deck  to  the  last  moment,  and  rise  from  their  dive,  on 
the   second  morning,  fresher  than  ever. 

Our  steamer  is  an  old  one,  but  a  favorite,  and  as 
steady  as  a  JSIassachusetts  matron  of  forty.  Our  captain 
is  a  kindly  old  sea-dog,  who  understands  his  business, 
and  does  not  mind  much  else.  To  the  innocent  flat- 
teries of  the  neophytes  he  opposes  a  resolute  front,  ihcy 
will  forget  him,  he  says,  as  soon  as  they  touch  land. 
They  protest  that  thcv  will  not,  and  assure  him  that  he 
shall  breakfast,  dine,  and  sup  w  ilh  them  in  Boston,  six 
months  hence,  and  that  he  shall  always  remain  their 
sole,  single,  and  ideal  captain  ;  at  all  of  which  he 
laughs  as  grimly  as  Jove  is  said  to  do  at  loveis'  per- 
juries. 

Our    company    is  a   small   one,  after  the  debarkation 


THE    VOYAGE.  5 

at  Halifax,  where  sixty-five  passengers  leave  us,  — 
among  whom  are  some  of  the  most  strenuous  euchre- 
ists. The  remaining  thirty-six  are  composed  partly  of 
our  own  country  people,  —  of  whom  praise  or  blame 
would  be  impertinent  in  this  connection,  —  partly  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  of  the  day,  in  the  pre-puritan  variety. 
Of  the  latter,  as  of  the  former,  we  will  waive  all  dis- 
criminating mention,'  having  porrigated  to  them  the 
dexter  of  good-will,  with  no  hint  of  aboriginal  toma- 
hawks to  be  exhumed  hereafter.  Some  traits,  however, 
of  the  Anglais  de  voyage.,  as  seen  on  his  return  from 
an  American  trip,  may  be  vaguely  given,  without  per- 
sonality or  fear  of  oftence. 

The  higher  in  grade  the  culture  of  the  European 
traveller  in  America,  the  more  reverently  does  he  speak 
of  what  he  has  seen  and  learned.  To  the  gentle- 
hearted,  childhood  and  its  defects  are  no  less  sacred 
than  age  and  its  decrepitude ;  withal,  much  dearer, 
because  full  of  hope  and  of  promise.  The  French  bar- 
ber sneezes  out  "  Paris "  at  every  step  taken  on  the 
new  land.  That  is  the  utmost  his  ratiocination  can  do  ; 
he  can  perceive  that  Boston,  Washington,  Chicago,  are 
not  Paris.  The  French  exquisite  flirts,  flatters  the  indi- 
vidual, and  depreciates  the  commonwealth.  The  Eng- 
lish bagman  hazards  the  glibbest  sentences  as  to  tb 
fiilsity  of  the  whole  American  foundation.  Not  much 
behind  him  lags  the  fox-hunting  squire.  The  folly  and 
uselessness  of  our  late  war  supply  the  theme  of  dia- 
tribes as  eloquent  as  twenty^z^e  letters  can  make  them. 
Obliging   apergzts  of  the    degradation    and    misery    in 


6  FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

Store  for  us  are  vouchsafed  at  every  opportunity.  But 
it  is  when  primogcuiture  is  touclied  upon,  or  the  neu- 
trality of  England  in  the  late  war  criticised,  that  the 
bellowing  of  the  sacred  bulls  becomes  a  brazen  thunder. 
After  listening  to  their  voluminous  complaints  of  the 
shortcomings  of  western  civilization,  we  are  tempted 
to  go  back  to  a  set  of  questions  asked  and  answered 
many  centuries  ago. 

''  What  went  ye  out  into  the  wilderness  for  to  see?  A 
man  clothed  in  soft  raiment?  Behold,  they  that  live 
delicately  dwell  in  kings'  houses.  But  what  went  ye 
out  for  to  see?  A  prcjjDlict?  Yea,  I  say  unto  you,  And 
more  than  a  prophet."  For  the  prophet  only  foretells 
what  is  to  be,  but  the  prophetic  nation  is  working  out 
and  fulHlling  the  prophet's  future. 

Peace,  however,  peace  between  us  and  tliem.  Let 
the  bagman  return  to  his  business,  the  squire  to  his  five- 
barred  gate.  We  wish  them  nothing  worse  than  to 
stay  at  home,  once  they  have  got  there.  Not  thus  do 
the  Goldwin  Smiths,  the  Liulph  Stanleys,  take  tiie 
altitude  of  things  under  a  new  horizon.  They  have 
those  tools  and  appliances  of  scientific  thought  which 
build  just  theories  and  strait  conclusions.  The  imper- 
fection and  the  value  of  human  phenomena  are  too 
well  understood  b}'  them  to  allow  th.em  to  place  all  of 
the  values  in  the  old  world,  and  all  of  the  imperfections 
in  llie  new.  And,  apropos  of  this,  we  have  an  anti- 
dote to  all  the  poison  of  gratuitous  malignity  in  the 
shape  of  M.  Auguste  Laugel's  tiiorough  and  apprecia- 
tive   treatise    entitled    The    United    States    during:    the 


THE    VOYAGE.  7 

War.  From  depths  of  misconception  which  we  can- 
not fathom  we  turn  to  his  pages,  and  see  the  truths  of 
our  record  and  of  our  conviction  set  forth  with  a  sim- 
plicity and  elegance  which  should  give  his  work  a  per- 
manent value.  To  Americans  it  must  be  dear  as  a 
righteous  judgment ;  to  Europeans  as  a  vindication  of 
their  power  of  judging. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  our  whole 
traversee  is  a  squabble,  open  or  suppressed,  between 
nationalities  which  should  contend  only  in  good  will. 
The  dreamy  sea-days  bring,  on  the  contrary,  much  so- 
cial chat  and  comfort.  Two  of  the  Britons  exercise  hos- 
pitality of  tea,  of  fresh  butter,  of  drinks  cunningly  com- 
pounded. One  of  these  glov.'S  at  night  like  a  smelting 
furnace,  and  goes  about  humming  in  privileged  ears, 
"  The  great  brew  is  about  to  begin."  For  this  same 
great  brew  he  tics  a  white  apron  before  his  stout  per- 
son, breaks  ten  eggs  into  a  bowl,  inflicting  flagellation 
on  the  same,  empties  as  many  bottles  of  ale  in  a  tin 
pan,  and  flies  oft'  to  the  galley,  whence  he  returns  with 
a  smoking,  frothing  mixture,  which  is  dispensed  in 
tumblers,  and  much  appreciated  by  the  recipients.  In 
good  fellowship  these  two  Britons  are  not  deficient, 
and  the  restriction  of  the  alphabet,  dimly  alluded  to 
above,  does  not   lie   at  their   door. 

After  rocking,  and  dreaming,  and  tumbling ;  after 
drowsy  attempts  to  get  hold  of  other  people's  ideas  and 
to  disentangle  your  own  ;  after  a  week's  wonder  over 
the  hot  suppers  of  such  as  dine  copiously  at  four  P.  M., 
and  the  morning  cocktails  of  those  who  drink  whiskey 


8  FROM    TJIli    OAK    To    TlIK    OF.IVli. 

in  all  its  varieties  before  vvc  separate  for  the  night ;  after 
repeated  cxpcriincnts,  which  end  by  suiting  our  gait  and 
diet  to  an  cver-mol)ile  existence,  in  which  our  preju- 
dices are  the  only  stable  points,  our  personal  restraints 
the  only  fixed  facts,  —  we  fairly  reacli  the  other  side. 
The  earliest  terrene  object  which  wc  behold  is  a  light- 
house some  sixty  miles  out  at  sea,  whose  occupants,  we 
hope,  are  not  resolutely  bent  upon  social  enjoyment. 
Here  the  sending  up  of  blue  lights  and  rockets  gives 
us  a  cheerful  sense  of  some  one  besides  ourselves. 
Qiieenstown,  our  next  point,  is  made  at  two  A.  M., 
and  left  after  w^eary  waiting  for  the  pilot,  but  still 
before  convenient  hours  for  being  up.  Some  hours 
later  we  heave  the  lead,  and  enjoy  the  sight  of  as  much 
terra  Jinua  as  can  be  fished  up  on  the  greased  end  of 
the  same.  Our  last  day  on  board  is  marred  by  a  heavy 
and  penetrating  fog.  We  arc  in  the  Channel,  but  can 
see  neither  shore.  In  the  early  morning  we  arrive  at 
Liverpool,  and,  after  one  more  of  those  good  breakfasts, 
and  a  mikl  encounter  with  the  custom-house  officers,  wc 
part  from  our  late  home,  its  mingled  associations  and 
associates  to  be  recalled  hereafter  with  various  shades  of 
regard  and  regret.  The  good  captain,  having  been  with- 
out sleep  for  two  nights,  docs  not  come  to  take  leave  of 
us  —  a  neglect  which  almost  moves  the  neophytes  to 
tears.  The  two  veterans  console  them,  however;  and 
now  all  parties  are  in  the  little  lighter  which  carries  the 
steamer's  passengers  and  luggage  to  the  dock.  Here, 
three  shillings'  worth  of  cab  and  horse  convey  us  and 
ours,  a  respectable  show  of  trunks,  to  the   hotel  of  our 


LIVERPOOL.  9 

choice  —  the  Washington  by  name.  We  commend 
this  cheapness  of  conve3'ance,  a  novel  feature  in  Amer- 
ican experience.  At  the  hotel  we  find  a  comfortable 
parlor,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  many  days,  part  from 
our  wrappings.  After  losing  ourselves  among  the 
Egyptian  china  of  our  toilet  set,  wondering  at  the 
width  of  beds  and  warmth  of  carpets,  we  descend  to 
the  coffee-room,  order  dinner,  and  feel  that  we  have 
again  taken  possession  of  ourselves. 

Liverpool. 

A  good  deal  of  our  time  here  is  spent  in  the  prosaic 
but  vital  occupation  of  getting  something  to  eat.  If 
Nature  abhors  a  vacuum,  she  does  so  especially  when, 
after  twelve  days  of  a  fluctuating  and  predatory  exist- 
ence, the  well-shaken  traveller  at  last  finds  a  stable 
foundation  for  self  and  victuals.  The  Washington  be- 
ing announced  as  organized  on  the  American  plan,  we 
descend  to  the  coffee-room  with  the  same  happy  confi- 
dence which  would  characterize  our  first  appearance 
at  the  buffet  of  the  Tremont  House  or  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel.  But  here  no  waiter  takes  possession  of  you  and 
your  wants,  hastening  to  administer  both  to  the  mutual 
advantage  of  guest  and  landlord.  You  sit  long  unno- 
ticed ;  you  attract  attention  only  by  a  desperate  effort. 
Having  at  length  secured  the  medium  through  which 
a  dinner  maybe  ordered,  the  minister  (he  wears  a  black 
dress  coat  and  white  trimmings)  disappears  with  an  air 
of  "Will  you  have  it  now,  or  wait  till  you  can  get  it?" 
which  our  subsequent  experience  entirely  justifies.     We 


lO  FUOM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

learn  later  that  a  meal  ordered  Iialf  an  hour  beforehand 
will  be  punctually  served. 

And  here,  except  in  cases  of  absolute  starvation,  \vc 
shall  dismiss  tiic  meal  question  altogether,  and  devote 
ourselves  to  nobler  themes.  We  ransack  the  smoky 
and  commercial  city  in  search  of  objects  of  interest. 
The  weather  being  incessantly  showery,  we  lay  the 
foundation  of  our  English  liberty  in  the  purchase  of 
two  umbrellas,  capable  each  of  protecting  two  heads. 
Of  clothes  we  must  henceforward  be  regardless.  In 
the  streets,  barefooted  beggary  strikes  us,  running  along 
in  the  wet,  whining  and  coaxing.  We  visit  the  boasted 
St.  George's  Hall,  where,  among  other  statues,  is  one  of 
the  distinguished  Stephenson,  of  railroad  memory.  Here 
the  court  is  in  session  for  the  assizes.  The  wigs  and 
gowns  astound  the  neophytes.  The  ushers  in  green  and 
orange  livery  shriek  "Silence  !"  through  every  sentence 
of  judge  or  counsel.  No  one  can  hear  what  is  going 
on.  Probably  all  is  known  beforehand.  At  the  hotel, 
the  Greek  coinmittee  wait  upon  the  veteran,  with  assev- 
erations and  hiccoughings  of  to  us  incomprehensible 
emotions.  We  resist  the  theatre,  with  the  programme 
of  "  Lost  in  London,"  expecting  soon  to  experience  the 
sensation  without  artistic  intervention.  We  sleep,  miss- 
ing the  cradle  of  tiie  deep,  and  on  the  morrow,  by  means 
of  an  uncanny  little  ferry-boat,  reach  the  Birkenhead 
station,  and  are  booked  for  Chester. 


chester lichfield.  1 1 

Chester  —  Lichfield. 

The  Grosvenor  Inn  receives  us,  not  at  all  in  the  fash- 
ion of  the  hostelry  of  twenty  years  ago.  A  new  and 
spacious  building  forming  a  quadrangle  around  a  small 
open  garden,  the  st3'le  highly  architectural  and  some- 
what inconvenient ;  waiters  got  up  after  fashion  plates  ; 
chambermaids  with  apologetic  caps,  not  smaller  than  a 
dime  nor  larger  than  a  dinner  plate  ;  a  handsome  sit- 
ting-room, difficult  to  warm  ;  airy  sleeping-rooms  ;  a 
coflee-i'oom  in  which  our  hunger  and  cold  seek  food 
and  shelter;  a  housekeeper  in  a  striped  silk  gown, — 
these  are  the  first  features  with  wdiich  we  become  famil- 
iar at  the  Grosvenor,  The  veteran  falling  ill  detains  us 
there  for  the  better  part  of  two  days  ;  and  we  employ 
the  interim  of  his  and  our  necessities  in  exploring  the 
curious  old  town,  with  its  many  relics  of  times  long 
distant.  The  neophytes  here  see  their  first  cathedral, 
and  are  in  raptures  with  nothing  so  much  as  with  its 
dilapidation.  We  happen  in  during  the  afternoon  hour 
of  cathedral  service,  and  the  sexton,  finding  that  we 
do  not  ask  for  seats,  fastens  upon  us  with  the  zeal  of 
a  starved  leech  upon  a  fresh  patient,  and  leads  us  as 
weary  a  dance  as  Puck  led  the  Athenian  clowns.  This 
chase  after  antiquity  proves  to  have  something  unsub- 
stantial about  it.  The  object  is  really  long  dead  antl 
done  with.  These  ancient  buildings  are  only  its  exter- 
nal skeleton,  the  empty  shell  of  the  tortoise.  No  effort 
of  imagination  can  show  us  how  people  felt  when  these 
dark   passages    and   deserted   enclosures   were   full   of 


13  FIU).M     Tllli:    OAK    TO    TlIK    OLI\K. 

the  arterial  warmth  and  current  of  lunnaii  life.  The 
momimental  tablets  tell  an  impossible  tale.  Tlie  im- 
mortal spirit  of  things,  which  is  past,  present,  and 
future,  dwells  not  in  these  relics,  but  lives  in  the  de- 
scent of  noble  thoughts,  in  the  perpetuity  of  moral  cflbrt 
which  makes  man  huuKui.  \\'e  make  these  reflections 
shivering,  while  the  neophytes  explore  nave  and  tran- 
sept, gallery  and  crypt.  A  long  tale  does  the  old  sexton 
tell,  to  which  they  listen  with  ever-wondering  expecta- 
tion. Meantime  the  cold  cathedral  service  has  ended. 
Canon,  precentor,  and  choir  have  departed,  with  the 
very  slender  lay  attendance.  In  a  comniodious  apart- 
ment, by  a  bright  lire,  we  recover  our  frozen  joints  a 
little.  Here  stands  a  full-length  portrait  of  his  most 
gracious  etc.,  etc.  The  sexton,  preparing  for  a  huge 
jest,  says  to  us,  "  Ladies,  this  represents  the  last  king 
of  America."  The  most  curious  thing  we  see  in  the 
cathedral  is  the  room  in  which  the  ecclesiastical  court 
held  its  sittings.  The  judges'  seat  and  the  high-backed 
benches  still  form  a  quatlrangular  enclosure  within  a 
room  of  the  same  shape.  Across  one  corner  of  this 
enclosure  is  mounted  a  chair,  on  which  the  prisoner, 
accused  of  the  intangible  ollence  of  heresy  or  witch- 
craft, was  perforce  seated.  I  seem  to  see  there  a  face 
and  figure  not  inilike  my  own,  the  brow  seamed  with 
cabalistic  wrinkles.  Add  a  little  queerness  to  the  trav- 
elling dress,  a  pinch  or  two  to  the  black  bonnet,  and 
how  easy  were  it  to  make  a  witch  out  of  the  sibyl  of 
these  present  leaves !  The  march  from  one  of  these 
types  to  the  other  is  one  of  those  retrograde  steps  whose 


CHESTER LICHFIELD.  I3 

contrast  only  attests  the  world's  progress.  The  sibyl- 
line was  an  excellent  career  for  a  queer  and  unexplained 
old  woman.  To  make  her  a  sorceress  was  an  ingenious 
device  for  getting  rid  of  a  much-decried  element  of  the 
social  variety.  Poor  Kepler's  years  of  solitary  glory 
and  poverty  were  made  more  wretched  by  the  danger 
which  constantly  threatened  his  aged  mother,  who  was 
in  imminent  danger  of  burning,  on  account  of  her  sup- 
posed occult  intelligences  wath  the  powers  of  darkness. 

After  a  long  and  chilly  wandering,  we  dismiss  our 
voluble  guide  with  a  guerdon  which  certainly  sends  him 
home  to  keep  a  silver  wedding  with  his  ancient  wife. 
The  next  day,  the  veteran's  illness  detained  us  within 
the  ancient  city,  and  w^e  contemplated  at  some  leisure 
its  quaint  old  houses,  which  in  Boston  would  not  stand 
five  days.  They  have  been  much  propped  and  cher- 
ished, and  the  new  architecture  of  the  town  does  its 
best  to  continue  the  traditions  of  the  old.  The  Guide 
to  Chester,  in  which  we  regretfully  invest  a  shilling, 
presents  a  list  of  objects  of  interest  which  a  week  would 
not  more  than  exhaust.  One  of  these — the  Roodeye  — 
is  an  extensive  meadow  with  a  silly  legend,  and  is  now 
utilized  as  a  race-course.  We  see  the  winning  post,  the 
graduated  seats,  the  track.     For  the  rest,  — 

"The  Spanish  fleet  thou  canst  not  see,  because 
It  is  not  jet  in  sight." 

We  visit  the  outside  of  a  tiny  church  of  ancient  renown, 
—  St.  Olave's,  —  but,  dreading  the  eternal  sexton  with 
the  eternal  story,  we  do  not  attempt  to  effect  an  entrance. 


14  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

The  much-famed  Roman  bath  we  find  in  connection 
with  a  shop  at  which  newspapers  are  sold.  We  descend 
a  narrow  staircase,  and  view  much  rubbish  in  a  small 
space.  For  description,  see  Chester  Guide.  One  of 
our  party  gets  into  the  bath,  and  comes  out  none  the 
cleaner.  Spleen  apart,  however,  the  ruin  is  probably 
authentic,  with  its  deep  spring  and  worn  arches.  Near 
the  Grosvenor  Hotel  is  a  curious  arcade,  built  in  a  part 
of  the  old  wall  —  for  Chester  was  a  fortified  jolace.  A 
portion  of  the  old  castle  still  stands,  but  we  fail  to  visit 
its  interior.  The  third  morning  sees  us  depart,  having 
been  quite  comfortably  entertained  at  the  Grosvenor, 
even  to  the  indulgence  of  sweetmeats  with  our  tea, 
which  American  extravagance  we  propose  speedily  to 
abjure.     Our  national  sins,  however,  still  cling  to  us. 

Although  the  servants  are  "  put  in  the  bill,"  the  crin- 
ging civility  with  which  they  follow  us  to  the  coach  leads 
me  to  suspect  that  the  nimble  sixpence  might  find  its 
way  to  their  acceptance  without  too  severe  a  gymnastic. 
En  route,  now,  in  a  comfortable  compartment,  with  hot 
water  to  our  feet,  according  to  the  European  custom. 
Our  way  to  Lichfield  lies  through  an  agricultural  region, 
and  the  fine  English  mutton  appear  to  be  forward. 
Small  lambs  cuddle  near  magnificent  fat  mothers.  The 
wide  domains  lie  open  to  the  view.  Everything  attests 
the  concentration  of  landed  property  in  the  hands  of 
the  few.  We  stop  at  Lichfield,  attracted  by  the  famous 
cathedral.  The  Swan  Inn  receives,  but  cannot  make  us 
comfortable,  a  violent  wind  sweeping  through  walls 
and  windows.       Having  eaten   and  drunk,  we  implore 


CHESTER LICHFIELD.  I5 

our  way  to  the  cathedral,  St.  Chadde,  which  we  find 
beautiful  without,  and  magnificently  restored  within. 
Many  monuments,  ancient  and  modern,  adorn  it,  with 
epitaphs  of  Latin  in  every  stage  of  plagiarism.  A 
costly  monument  to  some  hero  of  the  Sutlej  war  chal- 
lenges attention,  with  its  tame  and  polished  modern 
sphinxes.  Tombs  of  ancient  abbots  we  also  find,  and 
one  recumbent  carving  of  a  starved  and  shrunken  figure, 
whose  leanness  attests  some  ascetic  period  not  famous 
in  sculpture.  The  pulpit  is  adorned  with  shining  brass 
and  stones,  principally  cornelians  and  agates.  The  or- 
gan discoursed  a  sonata  of  Beethoven  for  the  practice 
of  the  organist,  but  secondarily  for  our  delectation.  A 
box  with  an  inscription  invites  us  to  contribute  our  mite 
to  the  restoration  of  the  cathedral,  which  may  easily  cost 
as  much  as  the  original  structure.  Carving,  gilding,  inlaid 
work,  stained  glass  —  no  one  circumstance  of  ecclesias- 
tical gewgawry  is  spared  or  omitted ;  and  trusting 
that  some  to  us  unknown  centre  of  sanctification  exists, 
to  make  the  result  of  the  whole  something  other  than 
idol  worship,  we  comply  with  the  gratifying  suggestion 
of  our  wealth  and  generosity.  After  satisfying  our- 
selves with  the  cathedral,  we  look  round  wonderingly 
for  the  recipient  of  some  further  fee.  He  appears  in 
the  shape  of  a  one-eyed  man  who  invites  us  to  ascend 
the  tower.  Guided  by  a  small  boy.  Neophyte  No.  i  ex- 
ecutes this  ascent,  and  of  course  reports  a  wonderful 
prospect,  which  we  are  content  to  take  on  hearsay. 
Leaving  the  cathedral,  we  seek  the  house  in  which  Dr. 
Johnson  is  said  to  have  been  born.     It  is,  strange  to 


l6  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

say,  much  like  other  houses,  the  lower  story  having  been 
turned  into  a  furnishing  shop,  where  we  buy  a  jDin- 
cusliion  tidy  for  remembrance.  In  an  open  space,  in 
front  of  tlie  house,  sits  a  statue  of  the  renowned  and  re- 
doubted doctor,  supported  by  a  pedestal  with  biograph- 
ical bas-reliefs.  Below  one  of  these  is  inscribed,  '*  lie 
hears  Sacheverell."  The  design  represents  a  small 
child  in  a  father's  arms,  presented  before  a  wiggy  divine, 
who  can,  of  course,  be  none  other  than  the  one  in  ques- 
tion. While  these  simple  undertakings  are  planned  and 
executed,  the  veteran  and  elder  neophyte  engage  a  one- 
horse  vehicle,  and  madly  fly  to  visit  an  insane  asylum. 
We  shiver  till  dinner  in  the  chilly  parlor  of  the  inn, 
and  inter  ourselves  at  an  early  hour  in  the  recesses  of 
a  huge  feather-bed,  where  the  precious  jewel,  sleep,  is 
easily  found.  And  the  next  morning  sees  us  en  route 
for  London. 

At  one  of  the  stations  between  Lichfield  and  Lou- 
don, we  encounter  a  group  whose  chief  figure  is  that  of 
a  pretty  little  lady,  blithe  as  a  golden  butterfly,  appar- 
elled for  the  chase.  Her  dress  consists  of  a  narrow- 
skirted  habit,  of  moderate  length,  beneath  which  we 
perceive  a  pair  of  stout  boots,  of  a  description  not 
strictl)'  feminine.  A  black  plush  paletot  corresponds 
with  her  black  skirt.  A  shining  stove-pipe  crowns  her 
yellow  tresses.  As  she  emerges  from  the  railway  car- 
riage, a  young  man  of  elegant  aspect  approaches  her. 
lie  wears  white  hunting  trousers,  high  black  boots,  a 
Ijlack  plush  coat,  and  carries  a  hunting  whip.  The  sim- 
ilarity of  color  ni  the  costumes  leads  us  to  suppose  that 


LONDON. 


17 


the  wearers  belong  to  some  hunting  association.  He  is 
at  least  Sir  Charles,  she,  Lad}'  Arabella.  He  accosts  her 
with  evident  pleasure,  and  is  allowed  a  shake  of  the 
hand.  An  elderly  relative  in  the  backgroinid,  a  ser- 
vant in  top  boots,  who  touches  his  hat  as  if  it  could  cure 
the  plague, — these  complete  the  picture. 

At  the  same  station  we  descry  another  huntsman  in 
white  breeches,  scarlet  cap,  and  overcoat.  We  learn 
that  there  are  two  meets  to-day  in  this  region,  but  our 
interests  are  with  the  black  and  white  party.  Farewell, 
Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Arabella.  Joyous  be  your  gal- 
lop, light  your  leap  over  five-barred  gates.  The  sly  fox 
Cupid  may  be  chasing  you,  while  you  chase  poor  Ren- 
ard.     Prosit. 

London. 

"Charing  Cross  Hotel?  'Ere  you  are,  sir ;  "  and  a 
small  four-wheeled  cab,  with  a  diminutive  horse  andbeer- 
tinted  driver,  has  us  up  at  the  door  of  the  same.  In 
front,  within  the  precincts  of  the  hotel  court,  stands  the 
ancient  cross,  or  that  which  replaces  it,  and  around  ra- 
diate cook-shops  and  book-shops,  jewellers  and  victual- 
lers and  milliners.  The  human  river  of  the  Strand 
fluxes  and  refluxes  before  this  central  spot,  and  Trafal- 
gar Square,  and  Waterloo  Place,  and  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  the  Houses  of  Parliament  are  near.  Cabs 
spring  up  like  daisies  and  primroses  beneath  the  foot- 
steps of  spring.  At  the  hotel  they  make  a  gratifying 
fuss  about  us.  They  seize  upon  all  of  us  but  our  per- 
sons ;  the  lift,  {Americane  —  elevator)  does  that,  and 
2 


l8  FKOM    Tllli    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

noiselessly  lodges  us  on  the  second  floor,  where  we  oc- 
cupy a  decent  sitting-room,  with  l)C(h"oonis  en  suite.  A 
(ire  of  soft  coal  soon  glows  in  the  grate.  A  smart  cham- 
bermaid takes  our  orders.  We  get  out  our  address-book, 
rub  up  our  recollections,  enclose  and  send  our  cards, 
then  run  out  and  lake  a  dip  in  the  Strand,  and  expand 
to  the  full  consciousness  that  we  are  in  the  mighty  city 
which  cannot  fall  because  there  is  no  hollow  deep 
enough  to  hold  it. 

W^e  have  a  quiet  day  and  a  half  at  the  hotel  before 
we  receive  the  echo  of  our  cards.  This  interval  we  im- 
l^rove  by  visits  to  the  houses  of  Parliament  and  West- 
minster Abbey,  where  we  pay  our  full  price,  and  vibit 
the  royal  chapels  with  their  many  tombs.  At  the  recum- 
bent figures  of  ^lary  Stuart  and  Elizabeth  we  pause  to 
think  of  the  dramatic  ghosts  which  will  not  allow  them 
to  rest  in  their  graves.  Poetry  is  resurrection,  and  for 
us  who  have  seen  Rachel  and  Ristori,  Mary  and  Eliza- 
beth are  still  living  and  speaking  lessons  of  human 
passion  and  misfortune.  These  marbles  hold  thcii 
crumbling  bones,  but  we  have  seen  them  in  far  America, 
doing  a  night's  royalty  before  a  democratic  audience, 
and  demanding  to  be  largely  paid  for  the  sauiC. 

The  frescoes  and  statues  in  the  long  corridors  of  the 
Houses  of  Parliament  deserve  a  more  minute  study  than 
we  are  able  to  give  them.  The  former  show  consid- 
erable progress  in  the  pictorial  ait  (.luring  the  seventeen 
years  which  divide  our  present  from  our  past  observa- 
tions. They  represent  noted  events  in  Englibh  history, 
the  last  sleep  of  ^Vrgyle,  the  execution  of  Montrose,  and 


LONDO?J.  19 

SO  on.  Among  them  we  see  the  departure  of  the  May- 
Flower,  but  not  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  The  statues 
perpetuate  the  memories  of  public  men,  including  a 
great  variety  both  as  to  opinion  and  as  to  service.  The 
solidity  of  all  these  adornments  and  arrangements  well 
deserves  the  praise  with  which  English  authorities  have 
been  wont  to  comment  upon  them.  A  little  sombre  and 
sober  in  their  tone,  they  are  expressive  of  the  taste  and 
feeling  of  the  nation.  Pailiament  is  now  in  session,  and 
various  interesting  measures  and  reforms  are  under  con- 
templation. Among  these  are  the  extension  of  the  elec- 
tive franchise,  the  abolition  of  flogging  in  the  army,  and 
the  change  of  the  whole  long-transmitted  system  by 
which  commissions  in  the  latter  are  conferred  or  pur- 
chased. The  last  is  perhaps  a  more  democratic  measure 
than  is  dreamed  of.  Throw  open  the  military  and 
church  benefices  to  the  competition  of  the  most  able  and 
deserving,  and  the  younger  sons  of  houses  esteemed  no- 
ble will  stand  no  better  chance  than  others.  They  will 
then  simply  earn  their  bread  where  they  can  get  it. 
Then,  down  comes  primogeniture,  then  the  union  of 
state  and  church,  then  the  prestige  of  royalty.  This  last 
we  think  to  be  greatly  on  the  wane.  The  English  pre- 
fer an  hereditary  to  an  elective  symbol  of  supreme 
power.  The  permitted  descent  in  the  female  line  pre- 
vents the  inconvenient  issues  to  which  the  failure  of 
an  heir  male  might  give  rise.  The  Georges  rose  to 
great  respectability  in  the  third  person,  and  sank  to  a 
disreputable  level  in  the  fourth.  The  present  queen  is 
an  excellently  behaved  woman,  and  has  adhered  strictly 


20  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    TlIK    OLI\i:. 

to  her  public  and  private  duties.  Ilcr  long  and  strict 
widowliood  is  a  liule  carped  at  by  people  in  general,  the 
personal  sentinKiil  having  seemed  to  encroach  upon  the 
public  career  and  ollice.  But  the  Prince  of  Wales  will 
be  held  to  strict  and  sensible  behavior,  and,  failing  of 
it,  will  be  severely  dealt  with.  The  English  people  will 
endure  no  second  season  of  Carlton  House,  no  letting 
down  of  manly  reserve  and  womanly  character  by  the 
spectacle  of  royal  favorites,  bankrupt  at  the  iheside,  but 
current  in  the  world.  All  this  John  Dull  will  not  put 
up  with  again.  Nor  will  any  Christendom,  save  that 
Prankish  and  monkeyish  one  which  has  yet  to  learn  that 
true  freedom  of  thought  is  not  to  be  had  without  purity 
of  conscience,  and  which,  in  its  desire  to  be  polite,  holds 
the  door  wider  open  to  bad  manners  than  to  good  ones. 

Rash  words !  What  noble,  thoughtful  Frenchmen 
have  not  we  known,  and  the  world  \vith  us  !  Shall  boast- 
ful Secesh  and  blustering  Yankee,  or  the  sordid,  shining 
shoddy  fool  stand  for  the  American?  Yet  these  are  the 
figures  with  which  Europe  is  most  familiar.  So  let  us 
fling  no  smallest  pebble  at  the  nation  of  Des  Cartes, 
Montesquieu,  Pascal,  and  De  Tocqueville.  It  is  not 
in  one,  but  in  all  countries  that  extremes  meet.  And  in 
this  connection  a  word. 

The  less  we  know  about  a  thing,  the  easier  to  write 
about  it.  To  give  quite  an  assured  and  fluent  account 
of  a  country,  we  should  lose  no  time  on  our  ilrst  arrival. 
The  first  impression  is  the  strongest.  Familiarity  con- 
stantly wears  ofl'  the  edge  of  observation.  The  face  of  the 
new  region  astonishes  us  once,  and  once  only.     We  soon 


LONDON.  21 

grow  used  to  it,  and  forget  to  describe  it.  The  first  day 
of  our  arrival  in  Liverpool  or  in  London  gave  us  volumes 
to  write,  wliich  have  proved  as  evanescent  as  the  pic- 
tures of  a  swift  panorama,  vanishing  to  return  no  more. 
For  now  we  are  seated  in  London  as  though  we  had 
always  lived  there.  We  may  sooner  astonish  it  with  our 
western  accent,  unconsidered  costume,  and  wild  coiftlu'e, 
than  it  can  rivet  our  attention  with  its  splendors  and  its 
queernesses,  its  squares,  fountains,  equipages,  cabmen, 
well-dressed  and  well-mannered  circles.  This  for  the 
features,  for  the  surface.  But  for  the  depth  and  spirit 
of  things,  the  longer  we  explore,  the  less  sanguine  do 
we  feel  of  being  able  to  exhaust  them.  We  sink  our 
deepest  shaft,  and  write  upon  it,  "  Thus  far  our  abilities 
and  opportunities  ;  far  more  remains  than  we  can  ever 
bring  to  light." 

And,  apropos  of  this  terrible  familiarity  with  things 
once  discerned,  let  me  say  that  when  we  shall  have  been 
two  days  in  heaven,  we  shall  not  know  it  any  longer, 
which  is  one  reason  why  we  must  always  be  getting 
there,  but  never  arrive.  Pope's  old-fashioned  line,  "  al- 
ways to  be  blest,"  expresses  profoundly  this  philosophi- 
cal necessity,  although  he  saw  it  in  a  simply  didactic 
light,  and  stated  it  accordingly.  The  line  none  the  less 
takes  its  place  in  the  stately  train  of  the  ideal  philoso- 
phy, to  which  those  have  best  contributed  who  have 
been  least  aware  of  the  fact  of  their  having  done  so. 
"  Lord,  when  saw  I  thee  naked  and  an  hungered,"  etc., 
etc.  On  some  smallest,  obscurest  occasion  probably, 
when,  the  recognized  form  and  the  ignored  spirit  pre- 


22  FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

seating  themselves  together,  thy  hospitable  bosom  re- 
ceived the  one,  antl  left  the  other  to  take  care  of  itself. 

Our  neophytes  take  this  great  Babel  with  the  charm- 
ing at-homeness  to  which  our  paragraph  alludes.  They 
devour  London  as  if  it  were  the  perpetual  bread  and 
butter  which  their  father's  house  keeps  always  cut  and 
spread  for  them  ;  cab  hire,  great  dinners,  distinguished 
company,  the  lofty  friend's  equipage  and  livery,  lent  for 
precious  occasions,  —  all  this  seems  as  much  a  matter  of 
course  as  Lindley  Murray's  rules,  or  the  Crcetl  and  the 
Commandments.  Joachim?  Of  course  they  will  hear 
Joachim,  and  the  Opera,  if  it  be  good  enough,  and  Mr. 

Dickens.     Lady  ,  Duke  of  So  and  so.     Very  well 

in  their  way.  Presented  at  court?  They  wouldn't 
mind,  provided  it  were  not  too  tedious,  Mr.  Carlyle? 
Herbert  Spencer?     Yes,  they  have  heard  tell  of  them. 

Happy  season  of  youth,  which  can  find  nothing  more 
reverend  than  its  possibilities,  more  glorious  than  its  un- 
wasted  powers!  In  spite  of  all  the  new  views  and 
theories,  I  say,  let  children  be  born,  and  kt  women  nurse 
them  and  bring  them  up,  and  let  us  have  young  people 
to  take  our  work  where  we  leave  it,  laughing  at  our  lim- 
itations, and  excelling  us  with  noble  strides;  to  pause 
some  day,  and  remember  our  lessons,  and  weep  over  our 
pains,  not  the  less,  O  God  of  the  future,  surpassing  us  ! 
So  let  children  continue  to  be  born,  and  let  no  one  at- 
tempt to  reconstruct  society  at  the  expense  of  one 
hair  of  the  head  of  these  little  ones,  ourselves  in  hope 
as  well  as  in  memory. 


ST.  Paul's  —  the  Japanese.  23 

St.  Paul's  —  The  Japanese. 

The  first  feature  of  novelty  in  visiting  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral  is  the  facility  for  going  thither  afforded  by  the 
city  railways,  —  one  of  which  swiftly  deposits  us  in  Can- 
non Street,  whence,  with  the  Cathedral  in  full  sight,  we 
beg  our  way  to  the  entrance,  so  far  as  information  goes, 
—  one  only  of  its  sevej-al  doors  being  open  to  the  pub- 
lic at  all  times.  The  second  is  the  ciypt  occupied  and 
solemnized  by  the  ponderous  funereal  pomps  of  the 
late  Duke  of  Wellington.  In  conjunction  with  these  must 
be  mentioned  the  Nelson  monument.  Tliese  two  men 
have  been  the  great  deliverers  of  England  in  modern 
times,  and  there  is,  no  doubt,  a  certain  heartiness  in  the 
gratitude  that  attends  their  memory.  The  duke's 
mausoleum  is  of  solid  porphyry,  highly  polished,  in  a 
quadrangular  enclosure,  at  each  of  whose  four  corners 
flames  a  gas-jet,  fixed  on  a  porphyry  shaft.  Behind 
this  a  large  space  is  filled  by  the  huge  funereal  car  which 
bore  the  hei'o  to  this  place  of  rest.  It  is  of  cast  iron, 
furnished  by  the  cannon  taken  in  his  victories.  In  it 
are  harnessed  effigies  of  the  six  horses  that  dragged  it, 
in  the  veritable  trappings  worn  on  the  occasion.  The 
heavy  black  draperies  of  the  car  are  edged  with  a 
colored  border,  representing  the  orders  worn  by  the 
duke.  And  here  the  care  of  England  will,  no  doubt, 
preserve  them,  with  the  nodding  hearse-plumes,  and  all 
the  monuments  of  that  holiday  of  woe,  to  moulder  as 
long  as  such  things  can  possibly  hold  together.  For 
there  is  a  point  at  which  the  most  illustrious  antiquity 


24  FROM    TIIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVK. 

degenerates  into  ilirt.  Ami  in  England  the  past  and 
present  will  yet  have  some  awkward  controversies  to 
settle  ;  for  the  sn.all  island  cannot  always  have  room  for 
both,  and  to  cramp  and  crowd  the  one  for  the  heraldic 
display  of  the  other  will  not  be  good  housekeeping, 
according  to  the  theories  of  to-day.  So,  when  the  fox- 
hunting squire  tells  us  that  his  chief  public  aim  and 
occupation  will  be  to  keep  bis  county  conservative,  we 
think  that  this  should  mean  to  cheat  the  honest  and 
laborious  peasantry  out  of  their  eye  teeth  ;  though  how 
they  should  be  ignorant  enough  to  be  outwitted  by  him, 
is  a  question  which  makes  us  pause  as  over  an  unex- 
plored abyss  of  knownothingism. 

St.  Paul's  is  clearly  organized  for  the  extortion  of 
shillings  and  sixpences.  So  much  for  seeing  the  bell, 
clock,  and  w  hispering  gallery  ;  so  much  for  the  crypt. 
You  are  pressed,  too,  at  every  turn,  to  purchase  guide- 
books, each  more  authentic  than  the  last.  There,  as  else- 
where, we  go  about  spilling  our  small  change  at  every 
step,  and  wondering  where  it  will  all  end.  We  remem- 
ber the  debtors'  prisons  which  still  abound  in  England, 
and  endeavor  to  view  the  younger  neophyte  in  the  sober 
livery  of  Little  Dorrit. 

The  only  occasion  of  public  amusement  that  we  im- 
prove, after  the  one  happy  hearing  of  Joachim,  is  an 
evening  performance  of  the  Japanese  jugglers,  whicli 
remains  fresh  and  vivid  in  our  recollections,  with  all  its 
barbaric  smoothness  and  perfection. 

The  first  spectacle  which  we  behold  is  that  of  a 
chattering  and  shrieking  nu)nkey  of  a  man,  who,  squat- 


ST.  Paul's  —  the  Japanese.  25 

ting  on  his  haunches,  visibly  fills  a  tea-cup  with  water, 
inverts  it  upon  a  pile  of  papers  without  spilling  a  drop, 
and  pulls  out  layer  after  layer  of  those  papers,  all  per- 
fectly dry,  which  he  waves  at  us  with  a  childish  joy. 
By  and  by,  he  restores  the  cup  to  its  original  position, 
and  then  empties  its  contents  into  another  vessel  before 
our  eyes.  Another,  a  top-spinning  savage,  continually 
whirls  his  top  into  that  state  which  the  boys  call  "  sleep," 
and  spins  it,  thus  impelled,  along  the  sharp  edge  of  a 
steel  sword,  up  to  the  point  and  back  again,  and  along 
the  border  of  a  paper  fan,  with  other  deeds  which  it 
were  tedious  to  enumerate.  While  these  feats  go  on, 
two  funny  little  Japanese  children,  oddly  bundled  up 
according  to  the  patterns  of  the  two  sexes,  toddle  about 
and  chatter  with  the  elders,  probably  for  the  purpose  of 
illustrating  the  features  of  family  life  in  Japan.  A 
young  creature,  said  to  be  the  wife  of  six  unpronounce- 
able syllables,  strums  on  a  monotonous  stringed  instru- 
ment, and  screeches,  sometimes  striking  an  octave,  but 
successfully  dodging  every  other  interval.  Both  in 
speech  and  in  song  the  tones  of  these  people  betray  an 
utter  want  of  command  over  the  inflections  of  the 
voice.  Every  elevation  is  a  scream,  every  depression, 
coil  rispetto^  a  grunt.  And  when,  in  addition  to  the 
song  and  strumming,  the  little  ones  lustily  beat  a  large 
wooden  tea-box  with  wooden  weapons,  Ave  begin  to 
waver  a  little  about  the  old  proverb,  De  gristihtis  non 
disfiitandiun  est.  The  beautiful  butterfly  trick,  how-, 
ever,  consoles  our  eyes  for  what  our  ears  have  suffered. 
The  conjurer  twists  first  one,  then  two,  butterflfes  out  of 


26  lUOM    Tllli    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

a  bit  of  white  paper,  and,  by  means  of  a  fan,  causes 
them  to  fly  and  poise  as  if  they  were  coquetting  with 
July  breezes.  When,  at  last,  he  presents  a  basket  of 
flowers,  the  illusion  is  perfect.  They  settle,  fly  again, 
and  hover  round,  in  true  colcopteric  fashion. 

But  the  acrobatic  exhibition  is  that  which  beggars  all 
that  our  overworked  sensibilities  have  endured  at  the 
hands  of  rope-dancer  or  equestrian.  Blondin  himself, 
Hanlon  in  the  flying  trapeze,  are  less  perfect  and  less 
terrible.  Acrobat  No.  i  appears  in  an  athlete's  costume 
of  white  linen.  He  binds  a  stout  silken  tie  around 
his  head  —  a  precaution  whose  object  is  later  understood. 
He  then  gets  into  a  small  metal  triangle  with  a  running 
cord  attached,  and  is  swung  up  to  the  neighborhood  of 
the  high,  arched  ceiling,  wliere  various  cross-pieces, 
slight  in  appearance,  are  attached.  To  one  of  tliese  he 
directs  his  venturous  flight,  and  letting  his  triangle 
depart,  he  takes  his  station  with  his  legs  firmly  closed 
upon  the  cross-piece,  his  head  hanging  down,  his  hands 
free.  Acrobat  No.  2  now  comes  upon  the  scene. 
Mounting  in  a  second  triangle,  he  is  swung  to  a  cer- 
tain height  at  a  distance  of  some  twenty  or  more  feet 
from  the  first  performer.  A  bamboo  pole  is  here 
handed  him,  of  which  he  manages  to  convey  the  upper 
end  within  the  grasp  of  tlie  latter.  And  now,  swinging 
loose  from  his  triangle,  he  hangs  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
bamboo,  his  steadfast  colleague  holding  fast  the  upper 
end.  And  this  mere  straight  line,  with  only  the  natural 
jointings  of  the  cane,  becomes  to  liiin  a  domain,  a 
palace  of  ease.     Now  he  clings  to  it  apparently  with 


ST.  Paul's  —  the  Japanese.  27 

one  finger,  throwing  out  the  other  hand  and  both  feet. 
Now  he  chngs  by  one  foot,  his  head  being  down,  and 
his  hands  occupied  with  a  fan.  There  is,  in  fact, 
no  name  for  the  singularities  with  which  he  amazes  us 
for  at  least  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  No.  i  always  holds 
on  like  grim  death.  No.  2  seems  at  times  to  hold  on  by 
nothing.  All  the  while  one  of  their  number  chatters 
volubly  in  the  Japanese  dialect,  directing  attention  to  the 
achievements  of  the  two  pendent  heroes.  Our  thoughts 
recurred  forcibly  to  a  dialogue  long  familiar  in  our  own 
country  :  — 

"  Wat's  dat  darkening  up  de  hole?"  asks  Cuflee  in  the 
she  bear's  den  to  Cuftee  without,  who  is  forcibly  detain- 
ing the  returned  she  bear  by  one  extremity. 

"  If  de  tail  slips  through  my  fingers,  you'll  find  out," 
is  the  curt  reply,  and  end  of  the  story. 

But  the  pole  did  not  slip  through,  and,  finally,  the 
second  triangle  was  swung  towards  acrobat  No.  2,  who 
relinquished  his  hold  of  the  bamboo,  and  intwining  his 
legs  about  it,  pleasantly  made  his  descent  with  his  head 
downwards,  afterwards  setting  himself  to  rights  with 
one  shake.  Acrobat  No.  i  now  condescends  to  come 
down  from  his  high  position,  also  with  his  head  down, 
and  a  cool  and  consummate  demeanor.  But  he  walks 
oft'  from  the  stage  as  if  his  late  inverted  view  of  it  had 
given  him  something  to  think  of.  And  in  all  this,  not 
one  jerk,  one  hasty  snatch,  one  fall  and  recovery.  All 
goes  with  the  rounded  smoothness  of  machinery.  These 
gymnasts  have  perfected  the  mechanism  of  the  body, 
but  they  have  given  it  nothing  to  do  that  is  worth  doing. 


28  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

SOCIETY. 

Wc  bite  at  the  tempting  bait  of  London  society  a 
little  eagerly.  In  our  case,  as  veterans,  it  is  like  return- 
ing to  a  delicious  element  from  which  we  have  long 
been  weaned.  The  cheerfulness  with  whicli  English 
people  respond  to  the  modest  presentment  of  a  card 
tvcIl-Diotived^  the  cordiality  with  which  they  welcome  an 
old  friend,  once  truly  a  friend,  may  well  ollsct  the  reserve 
with  which  they  respond  to  advances  made  at  random, 
and  the  resolute  self-defence  of  the  British  Lion  in  par- 
ticular against  all  vague  and  vagabond  enthusiasms. 
Carlyle's  wrath  at  the  Americans  who  homaged  and 
tormented  him  prompted  a  grandiose  vengeance.  lie 
called  them  a  nation  of  hyperbores.  Not  for  this  do  wc 
now  vigorously  let  him  alone,  but  because  his  spleeny 
literary  utterances  these  many  years  attest  the  precise 
moment  in  which  bright  Apollo  left  him.  The  most 
brilliant  genius  should  beware  of  the  infirmity  of  the 
tlreside  and  admiring  few,  whose  friendship  applauds 
his  poorest  sa}ings,  and,  at  the  utmost,  shrugs  its  shoul- 
ders where  praise  is  out  of  the  question. 

Our  remembrance  of  the  London  of  twenty-four  years 
ago  is,  indeed  hyperdeliglitful,  and  of  that  description 
which  one  does  not  ask  to  have  repeated,  so  perfect  is  it 
in  the  first  instance.  A  second  visit  was  less  social 
and  more  secluded  in  its  opportunities.  But  now  —  for 
what  reason  it  matters  not;  w(ju1(I  it  were  that  of  our 
superior  merit  —  we  find  tlie  old  deliglitful  account 
reopened,  the  friendly  visits  frequent,  and  the  luxurious 


SOCIETY.  29 

invitations  to  dinner  o'ccnpy  every  evening  of  our  short 
week  in  London,  crowding  out  theatres  and  opera, 
—  the  latter  now  just  in  the  bud.  To  these  dissipations 
a  nev\^  one  has  been  added,  and  tlie  afternoon  tea  is  now 
a  recognized  institution.  Less  formal  and  expensive  than 
a  New  York  afternoon  reception,  it  answers  the  same 
purpose  of  a  final  object  and  rest  for  the  day's  visiting. 
In  some  instances,  it  Continues  through  the  season;  in 
others,  invitations  are  given  for  a  single  occasion  only. 
You  go,  if  invited,  in  spruce  morning  dress,  with  as 
much  or  as  little  display  of  train  and  bonnet  as  may 
suit  with  your  views.  You  find  a  cheerful  and  broken-up 
assemblage  —  2:)eople  conversing  in  twos,  or,  at  most, 
in  threes.  And  here  is  the  Very  Reverend  the  Dean. 
And  here  is  the  Catholic  Archbishop,  renowned  for  the 
rank  and  number  of  his  proselytes.  And  here  is  Sir 
Charles  —  not  he  of  the  hunting-whip  and  breeches,  but 
one  renowned  in  science,  and  making  a  practical  as  well 
as  a  theoretical  approximation  to  the  antiquity  of  man. 
And  here  is  Sir  Samuel,  who  has  finally  discovered 
those  parent  lakes  of  the  Nile  which  have  been  among 
the  lost  arts  of  geography  for  so  many  centuries.  In 
this  society,  no  man  sees  or  shows  a  full-length  portrait. 
A  word  is  given,  a  phrase  exchanged,  and  "  tout  est  dlt.^' 
What  it  all  may  amount  to  must  be  made  out  in  an- 
other book  than  mine. 

Well,  having  been  more  or  less  introduced,  you  take 
a  cup  of  tea,  with  the  option  of  bread  and  butter  or  a 
fragment  of  sponge  cake.  Having  finished  this,  you 
vanish;  you  have  shown  yourself,  reported  yourself; 
more  was  not  expected  of  you. 


30         FUOM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

A  graver  and  more  important  institution  is  the  Lon- 
don dinner,  commencing  at  half  past  seven,  with  good 
evening  clothes  —  a  white  neckcloth  and  black  vest  for 
gentlemen  ;  for  nous  aictrcs.,  evening  dress,  not  resplen- 
dent. The  dinners  we  attend  have  perhaps  the  edge  of 
state  a  little  taken  otT,  being  given  at  short  notice ;  but 
we  observe  female  attire  to  be  less  showy  than  in  our 
recollections  of  twenty-four  years  previous,  and  our  one 
evening  dress,  devised  to  answer  for  dinner,  evening 
party,  and  ball,  proves  a  little  over,  rather  than  imder, 
the  golden  mean  of  average  appearance.  As  one  din- 
ner is  like  all,  the  briefest  sketch  of  a  single  possible 
occasion  may  suffice.  If  you  have  been  at  afternoon 
tea  before  dinner,  your  toilet  has  been  perforce  a  very 
hurried  one.  If  it  is  your  first  appearance,  the  anno7ice 
of  a  French  hair-dresser  in  the  upper  floor  of  your  hotel 
may  have  inspired  you  with  the  insane  idea  of  sub- 
mitting your  precious  brain-case  to  his  manipulations. 
Having  you  once  in  his  dreadfid  seat,  he  imposes  upon 
you  at  his  pleasure.  You  must  accept  his  hair-string, 
his  pins,  his  rats,  at  a  price  at  which  angola  cats  were 
dear.  You  are  palpitating  with  haste,  he  wnth  the 
conceit  of  his  character  and  profession.  Fain  would 
he  add  swindle  to  swindle,  and  perfidy  to  perfidy. 
"Don't  you  want  a  little  crayon  to  darken  the  hair?" 
and  hide  the  ravages  of  age  ;  "  it  is  true  it  colors  a  little, 
since  it  is  made  on  purpose."  You  desire  it  not.  "A 
cream?  a  pomade?  a  hair-wash?"  None  of  all  this; 
only  in  Heaven's  name  to  have  done  with  him  !  He 
capers  behind  you,  puffing  your  sober  head  with  curls, 


SOCIETY.  31 

as  if  he  had  the  breath  of  ^olus,  accordhig  to  Flax- 
man's  illustration.     Finally  he  dismisses  you   at  large 
and  unwarranted  cost ;  but  in  your  imagination  he  ca- 
pers at  your  back  for  a  week  to  come. 
This  prelude,  which  gives  to 

"  hairy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name," 

leaves  little  time  for  further  adornment.  A  hired  cab 
takes  your  splendors  to  the  door  of  the  inviting  man- 
sion, and  leaves  them  there.  When  you  depart,  you 
request  the  servant  of  the  house  which  feeds  you  to  call 
another  cab,  which  he  does  with  the  air  of  rendering  a 
familiar  service. 

I  have  no  intention  of  giving  a  detailed  portrait  of 
the  entertainment  that  follows.  Its  few  characteristic 
features  can  be  briefly  given.  Introductions  are  not 
general ;  and  even  in  case  the  occasion  should  have 
been  invoked  and  invited  for  you,  the  greater  part  of 
your  fellow-guests  may  not  directly  make  your  acquaint- 
ance. Servants  are  graver  than  senators  with  us.  Dishes 
follow  each  other  in  bewildering  and  rather  oppressive 
variety.  You  could  be  very  happy  with  any  one  of 
them  alone,  but  with  a  dozen  you  fear  even  to  touch 
and  taste.  Conversation  is  not  loud  nor  general,  scarce- 
ly audible  across  the  table.  A.%  in  marriage,  your  part- 
ner is  youf  fate.  One  would  be  very  glad  to  present 
one  brick  so  that  another  could  be  laid  on  top  of  it,  or 
even  to  attempt  an  angle  and  a  corner  adjustment.  But 
this  conversation  is  not  architectonic.     It  aims  at  noth- 


32         FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

ing  more  than  the  requisite  small  change.  If  by  chance 
the  society  be  assembled  at  an  informal  house,  and  com- 
posed of  artists  and  autliors,  we  shall  hear  jests  and 
laughter,  but  the  themes  of  these  will  scarcely  go  be- 
yond the  most  familiar  matters.  Having  told  thus  much 
we  have  told  all,  except  that  ice  is  not  served,  as  with 
us,  upon  the  table,  in  picturesque  variety  of  form  and 
color,  but  is  usually  bestowed  in  spoonfuls,  one  of  either 
kind  to  each  person,  the  quality  being  excellent,  and  the 
quantity,  after  all  else  that  has  been  offered,  quite  suffi- 
cient. It  is  here  one  of  the  most  expensive  articles  of 
luxe  —  costing  thrice  its  Yankee  prices.  The  ladies 
leave  the  table  a  little  before  the  gentlemen  ;  but  these 
arrive  with  no  symptoms  of  inordinate  drinking.  The 
latter,  as  is  well  known,  is  long  gone  out  of  fashion, 
and  with  it,  we  imagine,  the  description  of  wit  and 
anecdote,  whose  special  enjoyment  used  to  be  reserved 
for  the  time  "  after  the  ladies  had  left  tlie  table."  This 
is  all  that  can  be  told  of  the  dinner,  which  is  the  ?ic  plus 
ultra  of  English  social  enjoyments  ;  for  balls  every- 
where are  stale  aflliirs,  save  to  the  dancing  neophytes, 
and  the  enjoyment  to  be  had  at  them  is  either  official  or 
gymnastic.  At  a  "  select"  soiree  following  a  state  din- 
ner, we  hear  Mr.  Ap  Thomas,  the  renowned  harpist, 
whose  execution  is  indeed  brilliant  and  remarkable. 
The  harp,  however,  is  an  instrument  that  owes  its  pres- 
tige partly  to  its  beauty  of  form,  j^artly  to  the  romance 
of  its  traditions,  from  King  David  to  the  Welsh  bards. 
In  tone  and  temper  it  remains  greatly  inferior  to  the 
piano-forte,  the  finger  governing  the  strings  far  better 


SOCIETY.  33 

with  than  without  the  intervention  of  the  keys  and 
hammers. 

But  while  we  thankfully  accept  the  offered  opportu- 
nities of  meeting  those  whom  we  desire  to  see,  we  are 
forced,  as  hygienists  and  economists,  to  enter  our  protest 
against  the  English  dinner  —  this  last  joint  in  the  back- 
bone of  luxury.  After  hearty  luncheon  and  social  tea, 
it  would  seem  to  be  "a  mere  superfluity,  not  needed,  a 
danger  if  partaken  of,  a  mockery  if  neglected.  So  let 
New  England  cherish  while  she  can  the  early  dinner  ; 
for  with  the  extended  areas  of  business  and  society, 
dinner  grows  ever  later,  and  the  man  and  his  family 
wider  apart.  By  the  time  that  tea  and  coffee  are  got 
through  with,  it  may  well  be  half  past  ten  o'clock,  and 
by  eleven,  at  latest,  unless  there  should  be  music  or 
some  s2Decial  after-entertainment,  you  take  leave. 

Hoping  to  revisit  more  fully  this  ancestral  isle  before 
the  tocsin  of  depart  for  home,  we  will  now,  with  a  little 
more  of  our  sketchiness,  take  leave  of  it,  which  we 
should  do  with  heartier  regret  but  for  the  prospect  of  a 
not  distant  return. 

In  philosophy,  England  at  the  present  day  does  not 
seem  to  go  beyond  Mill  on  the  one  liand,  and  Stewart  on 
the  other.  The  word  "  science  "  is  still  used,  as  it  was 
ten  3-ears  ago  with  us,  to  express  the  rules  and  obser- 
vances of  physical  and  mathematical  study.  Science, 
as  the  mother  of  the  rules  of  thought,  generating  logic, 
building  metaphysics,  and  devising  the  rules  of  cohe- 
rence by  which  human  cogitation  is  at  once  promoted 
and  measured,  —  this  conception  of  science  I  did  not 
3 


34  FUOM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

recognize  in  those  with  whom  I  spoke,  unless  I  except 
Rev.  II.  Martincau,  with  whom  I  had  only  general  con- 
versation, but  whose  intellectual  position  is  at  once  with- 
out the  walls  of  form,  and  within  the  sanctuary  of  free- 
dom. I  was  referred  to  Jowett  and  his  friends  as  the 
authorities  under  this  head,  but  this  was  not  the  moment 
in  which  to  find  them.  In  religion,  Miss  Cobbe  leads 
the  van,  her  partial  method  assuming  as  an  original 
conception  what  the  Germans  have  done,  and  much 
better  done,  before  her.  Theodore  Parker  is,  I  gather, 
her  great  man  ;  and  in  her  case,  as  in  his,  largeness  of 
nature,  force  and  geniality  of  temperament,  take  the 
place  of  scientific  construction  and  responsible  labor. 
!Mr.  ISIartincau's  position  is  well  known,  and  is  for  us 
New  Englandcrs  beyond  controversy.  The  broad  church 
is  best  known  to  us  by  Kingsley  and  Maurice.  To  those 
who  still  stand  within  the  limits  of  an  absolute  authority 
in  spiritual  matters,  its  achievements  may  appear  worthy 
of  surprise  and  of  gratulation.  To  those  who  have 
passed  that  barrier  they  present  no  intellectual  feature 
worth  remarking. 

I  well  remember  to-day  my  childish  astonishment 
when  I  first  learned  tliat  I  and  my  fellows  were  outside 
the  earth's  crust,  not  within  it.  In  connection  with  this 
came  also  the  fact  of  a  mysterious  force  binding  us  to 
the  surface  of  the  planet,  so  that,  in  its  voyages  and 
revolutions,  it  can  lose  nothing  of  its  own. 

Something  akin  to  this  may  be  the  discovery  of  be- 
lievers that  they  and  those  whom  they  follow  are,  so 
far  as  concerns  actual  opportunity  of  knowledge,  on  the 


SOCIETY. 


35 


outside  of  the  world  of  ideal  truth.  Eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  nor  heart  conceived,  any  absolute  form 
of  its  manifestation.  A  divine,  mysterious  force  binds 
us  to  our  place  on  its  smiling  borders.  Of  what  lies 
beyond  we  construe  as  we  can  —  Moses  according  to  his 
ability,  Christ  and  Paul  according  to  theirs.  Unseen 
and  unmanifested  it  must  ever  remain  ;  for  though  men 
say  that  God  has  done  so  and  so,  God  has  never  said 
so.  Of  this  we  become  sure :  religion  spiritualizes, 
inspires,  and  consoles  us.  The  strait  gate  and  narrow 
path  are  blessed 'for  all  who  find  them,  and  are  the 
same  for  all  who  seek  them.  But  this  oneness  of 
morals  is  learned  experimentally  ;  it  cannot  be  taught 
dogmatically. 

Proposing  to  return  to  this  theme,  and  to  see  more 
of  the  broad  church  before  I  decide  upon  its  position,  I 
take  leave  of  it  and  of  its  domain  together.  Farewell, 
England  !  farewell,  London  !  For  three  months  to  come 
thou  wilt  contain  the  regalia  of  all  wits,  of  all  capabili- 
ties. Fain  would  we  have  lingered  beside  the  hospitable 
tables,  and  around  the  ancient  monuments,  considering 
also  the  steadfast  and  slowly-developing  institutions. 
But  the  chief  veteran  is  in  haste  for  Greece,  and  on  the 
very  Sunday  on  which  we  should  have  heard  Martineau 
in  the  forenoon,  and  Dean  Stanley  in  the  afternoon,  with 
delightful  social  recreation  in  the  evening,  we  break 
loose  from  our  moorings,  reach  Folkstone,  and  embark 
for  its  French  antithesis,  Boulogne  siir  mer. 


36  prom  the  oak  to  the  olive. 

Thic  Channel. 

If  tlic  devil  is  not  so  black  as  he  is  painted,  it  must 
be  because  he  has  an  occasional  day  of  good  humor. 
Some  such  wondrous  interval  is  hinted  at  by  people 
who  profess  to  have  seen  the  Channel  sea  smooth  and 
calm.  We  remember  it  piled  with  mountains  of  an- 
guish—  one's  poor  head  swimming,  one's  heart  sink- 
ing, while  an  organ  more  important  than  cither  in  this 
connection  luiderwent  a  sort  of  turning  inside  out  which 
seemed  to  wrench  the  very  strings  of  life.  But  on  this 
broken  Sabbath  our  wonderful  luck  still  i:)ursues  us.  It  is 
in  favor  of  the  neophytes  that  this  new  dispensation  has 
been  granted.  The  monsters  of  the  deep  respect  their 
innocence,  and  cannot  visit  on  them  the  vulgar  ollences 
of  their  progenitors.  They  bind  the  waves  with  a  gar- 
land of  roses  and  lilies,  whose  freshness  proves  a  spell  of 
peace.  \V^e,  the  elders,  embark,  expecting  the  usual 
speedy  prostration  ;  but,  placing  ourselves  against  the 
mast,  we  determine,  like  Ulysses,  to  maintain  the  integ- 
rity of  our  position.  And  it  so  happens  that  we  do. 
While  a  few  sensitive  mortals  about  us  execute  the 
irregular  symphony  of  despair,  we  rest  in  a  calm  ami 
upright  silence.  Never  was  the  Channel  so  quiet ! 
We  were  not  uproarious,  certainly,  but  conteinplativc. 
A  wretch  tucked  us  up  with  a  tarpaulin,  for  which  he 
afterwartls  demanded  a  Irille.  If  ci\ility  is  sold  for  its 
weight  in  silver  anywhere,  it  is  on  Eiiglisli  soil  and  in 
English  dependencies.  W^c,  the  veterans,  took  our  qu^ct 
ferriage  in  mute  amazement;  the  neopliytcs  took  it  as 
a  thinj:  of  course. 


PARIS    AND    THENCE.  37 

Arrived,  we  rush  to  the  buffet  of  the  raih'oad  station, 
where  every  one  speaks  French-English.  Here  a  very 
limited  dinner  costs  us  five  francs  a  head.  We  accept 
the  imposition  with  melancholy  thoughtfulness.  Then 
comes  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive.  '•'•En  voiture. 
messieurs  I"  And  away,  with  a  shriek,  and  a  groan, 
and  a  rattle,  —  to  borrow  Mr.  Dickens's  refrain,  now 
that  he  has  done  with  it,  —  eit  route  for  Paris. 

Paris  and  Thence. 

In  Paris  the  fate  of  Greece  still  pursues  us.  Two 
days  the  rigid  veteran  will  grant ;  no  more  —  the  rest 
promised  when  the  Eastern  business  shall  have  been 
settled.  But  those  two  days  suffice  to  undo  our  immor- 
tal souls  so  far  as  shop  windows  can  do  this.  The  shin- 
ing sins  and  vanities  of  the  world  are  so  insidiously  set 
forth  in  this  Jesuits'  college  of  vSatan,  that  you  catch  the 
contagion  of  folly  and  extravagance  as  you  pace  the 
streets,  or  saunter  through  the  brilliant  arcades.  Your 
purveyor  makes  a  Sybarite  of  you,  through  the  inevita- 
ble instrumentality  of  breakfast  and  dinner.  Your 
clothier,  from  boots  to  bonnet,  seduces  you  into  putting 
the  agreeable  before  the  useful.  For  if  you  purchase 
the  latter,  you  will  be  moved  to  buy  by  the  former,  and 
use  becomes  an  after-thought  to  your  itching  desire  and 
disturbed  conscience.  Paris  is  a  sweating  furnace  in 
which  human  beings  would  turn  life  everlasting  into 
gold,  provided  it  were  a  negotiable  value.  You,  who 
escape  its  allurements  solvent,  with  a  franc  or  two  in 
your  pocket,  and  your  resources  for  a  year  to  come  not 


38  FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

mortgaged,  should  after  your  own  manner  cause  Tc 
DcHin  to  be  sung  or  celebrated.  Strongly  impressed  at 
llic  time,  mcved  towards  every  acquisitive  villany,  not 
excluding  shop-lifting  nor  the  picking  of  pockets,  I  now 
regard  with  a  sort  of  indignation  those  silken  snares, 
those  diamond,  jet,  and  crystal  allurements,  which  so 
nearly  brought  my  self-restraint,  and  with  it  my  self-re- 
spect, to  ruin.  Everything  in  Paris  said  to  me,  "  vShine, 
d\e  your  hair,  rouge  your  checks,  beggar  your  purse 
with  real  diamonds,  or  your  pride  with  false  ones.  But 
shine,  and,  if  necessary,  beg  or  steal."  Nothing  said, 
"  Be  sober,  be  vigilant,  because  your  adversary,  like  a 
roaring  lion,"  etc.,  etc.  What  a  deliverer  was  therefore 
the  stern  Crete-bound  veteran,  who  cut  the  Gordian  knot 
of  enchantment  with,  "  Pack  and  begone."  And  having 
ended  that  inevitable  protest  against  his  barbarity  with 
which  women  requite  the  oilices  of  true  friendship,  I 
now  turn  my  wrath  against  false,  fair  Paris,  and  cry, 
"Avoid  \\\cc^  scclcstissitua!  Away  from  me,  ?ic(////s- 
sima!  I  will  none  of  thee  ;  not  a  franc,  not  an  obolus. 
Avoid  thee  !    JVo/o  ornari!  " 

Touching  our  journey  from  Paris  to  Marseilles,  I  will 
only  give  the  scarce-needed  advice  that  those  who  have 
this  route  to  make  shoidd  inllict  upf)n  themselves  a  little 
extra  fatigue,  and  stop  only  at  Lyons,  if  at  all,  rather 
than  risk  the  damp  rooms  and  musty  accommodations 
of  the  smaller  places  which  lie  upon  the  route,  olVering 
to  the  traveller  few  objects  of  interest,  or  none.  For 
it  often  happens  in  travelling  that  a  choice  only  of  in- 
conveniences is  presented  to  us,  and  in  our  opinion  a 


PARIS    AND    THENCE. 


39 


prolonged  day's  journey  in  a  luxurious  car  is  far  less 
grievous  to  be  borne  than  a  succession  of  stoppages,  un- 
packings,  and  plungings  into  unknown  inns  and  unaired 
beds.  To  this  opinion,  however,  our  Greece-bound  vet- 
eran suffers  not  himself  to  be  converted,  and,  according- 
ly, we,  leaving  Paris  on  the  Wednesday  at  ten  A.  M.,  do 
not  reach  Marseilles  until  four  o'clock  of  the  Friday 
afternoon  following.  " 

The  features  of  our  first  day's  journey  are  those  of  a 
country  whose  landed  possessions  are  subdivided  into 
the  smallest  portions  cultivable.  Plains  and  hill-sides 
are  alike  covered  with  the  stripes  which  denote  the 
limits  of  property.  Fruit  trees  in  blossom  abound  every 
where,  but  the  villages,  built  of  rough  stone  and  lime, 
are  distant  from  each  other.  As  we  go  southward,  the 
vine  becomes  more  apparent,  and  before  we  reach  Lyons 
we  see  much  of  that  contested  gift  of  God.  The  trains 
that  pass  us  are  often  loaded  with  barrels  whose  precious 
contents  cannot  be  bought  pure  for  any  money,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  or  even  of  the  Straits  of  Do- 
ver. To  this  the  procession  of  the  jolly  god  has  come 
at  last.  He  leers  at  us  through  the  two  red  eyes  of  the 
locomotive ;  its  stout  cylinder  represents  his  embo7i- 
pomt.  Instead  of  frantic  Bacchantes,  the  rattling  cars 
dance  after  him,  and  "  Oheevohel  "  degenerates  into  the 
shrill  whew,  whew  of  the  engine.  At  the  buff'ets  and 
hotels  en  route  his  mysteries  are  celebrated.  These 
must  be  sought  in  the  labyrinthine  state  of  mind  of  those 
who  have  drunken  frequently  and  freely.  They  utter 
words  unintelligible  to   the  sober  and  uninspired,  sen- 


40  FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

tences  of  prophetic  madness  which  the  prose  of  modern 
physiology  condenses  into  those  two  words — gout  and 
deHrium  tremens.  Yet  these  two  dire  diseases  are  rare 
among  the  temperate  French.  They  export  the  pro- 
ducing medium  ati  profit  de  Vetranger. 

We  stop  the  first  night  at  Macon,  and  sleep  in  an  im- 
posing, cliilly  room,  without  carpets,  under  down  cover- 
lets. The  second  day's  journey  brings  us  to  Lyons  an 
hour  before  noon.  We  engage  a  Jiacrc^  drive  around 
the  town,  whose  growth  and  improvement  in  the  interval 
of  sixteen  years  do  not  fail  to  strike  us.  Fine  public 
squares  adorn  it,  themselves  embellished  with  bronze 
statues,  among  which  we  observe  an  equestrian  figure 
of  the  first  and  only  Napoleon.  The  shops  are  as  tor- 
menting as  those  of  Paris,  the  Cafe  Casati,  where  we 
tline,  as  elegant.  Re-embarking  at  four  P.  M.,  we 
reach  Valence  in  about  four  hours. 

The  worst  of  it  is,  that,  arriving  at  these  quaint  little 
places  after  dark,  you  see  none  of  their  features,  and 
taste  only  of  their  discomforts.  At  Valence  our  inn  was 
so  dreary,  that,  having  bestowed  the  neophytes  in  sound 
slumber,  the  veteran  and  I  sallied  forth  in  quest  of  any 
pastime  wliatever,  without  being  at  all  fastidious  as  to 
its  source  and  cliaractcr.  Passing  along  the  quiet  streets, 
we  observe  what  would  seem  to  be  a  theatre,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  way.  Fntering,  we  find  a  youthful 
guardian,  who  tells  us  that  there  is  up  staiis  a  '■'■con- 
ference de  philosophies  We  enter,  and  hnd  a  very 
respectable  assemblage,  listening  attentively  to  an  indis- 
tinct orator,  who  rhapsodizes  upon  the  poets  of  modcrii 


PARIS    AND    THENCE.  4I 

France,  with  quotations  and  personal  anecdotes.  What 
he  says  has  little  originality,  but  is  delivered  with  good 
taste  and  feeling.  He  speaks  without  notes  ;  for,  indeed, 
such  a  canserie  spins  itself,  like  a  sailor's  yarn,  thouo-h 
out  of  finer  materials. 

Returning  to  our  hostelry,  we  sleep  with  open  win- 
dow in  a  musty  room,  and  catch  cold.  The  next  day's 
journey  still  conducts  us  through  a  vine-growing  region, 
in  a  more  and  more  advanced  condition.  The  constant 
presence  of  the  niorus  multicaulis  also  makes  us  aware 
of  the  presence  of  the  silk-worm  — -  so  far,  only  in  the 
egg-condition  ;  for  that  prime  minister  of  vanity  is  not 
hatched  yet.  We  learn  that  the  disease  which  has  for 
some  years  devastated  the  worm  is  on  the  decline.  The 
world  with  us,  meanwhile  has  become  somewhat  weanetl 
from  the  absolute  necessity  of  the  article,  and  the  friend- 
ly sheep  and  alpaca  have  made  great  progress  in  the 
^Esthetics  of  the  toilet.  As  we  approach  Marseilles, 
we  cross  a  dreary  flat  of  wide  extent,  covered  with 
stones  and  saltisli  grass,  and  said  to  produce  the  finest 
cattle  in  France.  The  olive,  too,  makes  his  stiff'  bow  to 
us  as  we  pass,  well  remembering  his  dusty  green.  The 
olive  trees  seem  very  small,  and  are,  indeed,  of  com- 
loaratively  recent  growth  ;  all  the  larger  ones  having 
been  killed  by*  a  frost,  rare  in  these  latitudes,  whose 
epoch  we  are  inclined  to  state  as  posterior  to  our  last 
presence  in  these  parts.  Our  informant  places  it  at 
twenty  years  ago.  After  three  days  of  piecemeal  trav- 
elling, the  arrival  at  Marseilles  seems  quite  a  relief. 


42  1IM)M    Tllli:    OAK    TO   THE    OLIVE. 

Marseilles. 

At  Marseilles  we  lliul  a  quasi  tropical  aspect  —  long 
streets,  handsome  and  well-shaded,  tempting  shops,  lux- 
urious hotels,  a  motley  company,  and,  above  all,  a  friend, 
one  of  our  own  countrymen,  divided  between  the  glit- 
ter of  the  new  life  and  the  homesick  weaning  of  the  ohl. 
Half,  he  assinnes  the  cicerone,  and  guides  our  ignorance 
about.  Half,  he  sits  to  learn,  and  we  expound  to  him 
what  has  befallen  at  home,  so  fiir  as  we  are  conscious 
of  it.  We  take  half  a  day  for  resting,  the  next  day  for 
sight-seeing.  On  the  third,  we  must  sail,  for  finding 
that  Holy  Week  is  still  to  be,  we  determine  to  make  our 
reluctant  sacrifice  to  the  Mediterranean,  and  to  trust  our 
precious  comfort  and  delicate  equilibrium  to  that  blue 
imposture,  that  sunniest  of  humbugs. 

On  the  second  day,  wc  climb  the  steep  ascent  that 
leads  to  the  chapel  of  La  Bonne  Mere  de  la  Garde. 
This  hot  and  panting  ascent  is  not  made  by  us  with- 
out many  pauses  for  recovered  breath  and  energy.  At 
every  convenient  stopping-place  in  the  steep  ascent  are 
stationed  elderly  women  presiding  over  small  booths, 
who  urgently  invite  us  to  purchase  candles  to  give  to 
the  Madonna,  medals,  rosaries,  and  photographs,  to  all 
of  whom  we  oppose  a  steadfast  resistance.  We  have 
twice  in  our  lives  brought  home  from  Europe  boat-loads 
of  trash,  and  wc  think  that,  as  Paul  says,  tlie  time  past 
of  our  lives  mav  sullice  us.  Finally,  with  a  degree  of 
perspiration  more  than  salutary,  we  reach  the  top,  and 
enjoy    first    the  view   of  the  Mediterranean,   including 


MARSEILLES.  43 

a  bird's-eye  prospect  of  the  town,  which  looks  so 
parched  and  arid  as  to  make  the  remembrance  of  Lon- 
don in  the  rain  soothing  and  pleasant.  A  palace  is 
pointed  ont  which  was  built  in  the  expectation  of  a 
night's  sojourn  of  the  emperor,  but  to  which,  they  tell 
us,  he  never  came.  Our  point  of  view  is  the  top  of  one 
of  the  towers  of  the  church.  Going  inside,  we  look 
down  upon  the  aisks  and  altars  from  a  lofty  gallery. 
The  silver  robes  of  the  Madonna  glisten,  reflecting 
the  many  wax-lights  that  devotees  have  kindled  around 
her.  The  first  sight  of  these  material  expressions  of 
devotion  is  imposing,  the  second  instructive,  the  third, 
commonplace  and  wearisome.  We  are  at  the  last 
clause,  and  gaze  at  these  things  with  the  eyes  of  people 
who  have  seen  enough  of  them. 

The  remainder  of  the  disposable  day  we  employ  in  a 
di-ive  to  the  Prado,  the  fashionable  region  for  the  display 
of  equipage  and  toilet.  This  is  not,  however,  the 
fashionable  day,  and  we  meet  only  a  few  grumpy-look- 
ing dowagers  in  all  stages  of  fatitude.  The  road  is 
planted  with  double  rows  of  lindens,  and  is  skirted  by 
country  residences  and  villas  to  let.  We  stop  and  alight 
at  the  Musee,  a  spacious  and  handsome  building,  erected 
and  owned  by  a  noble  of  great  wealth,  long  since  dead, 
who  committed  celibacy,  and  left  no  personal  heir.  It 
is  now  the  property  of  the  city  of  Marseilles.  The  hall 
is  fine.  Among  the  spacious  salons,  the  largest  is  used 
as  a  gallery  of  pictures,  mostly  by  artists  of  this  neigh- 
borhood, and  of  very  humble  merit.  In  another  we 
find  a    very    good    collection    of    Egyptian    antiquities. 


44  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

while  in  yet  another  -the  old  state  furniture  is  retained, 
the  rich  crimson  hangings,  long  divan  of  gobelin,  and 
chairs  covered  with  line  worsted  ncedlc-vvork.  Beyond  is 
a  pretty  Chinese  cabinet,  with  a  full-length  sg/iaiitc  of 
Buddh,  gayly  gilded  and  painted.  Al)ove  stairs,  the 
state  bed  and  hangings  are  shown,  tlic  latter  matching  a 
handsome  landscape  chintz,  with  which  the  walls  are 
covered.  This  museum  has  in  it  a  good  deal  of  instruc- 
tive and  entertaining  matter,  and  is  kept  in  first-rate  order. 
Returning,  we  drive  around  the  outer  skirts  of  the  town, 
and  see  something  of  the  summer  bathing  hotels,  the 
great  storehouses,  and  the  streets  frequented  b}'  the 
working  and  seafaring  portion  of  the  community. 

In  the  evening  we  walk  through  the  sti'ccts,  which  are 
brilliant  with  gas,  and  visit  the  cafes,  where  ices,  cofiee, 
and  lemonade  arc  enjoyed.  We  finally  scat  ourselves  in 
a  casino,  a  sort  of  mixed  cafe  and  theatre,  where  the 
most  motley  groups  of  people  are  coming,  going,  and 
sitting.  At  one  end  is  a  small  stage,  with  a  curtain, 
which  falls  at  the  end  of  each  separate  performance. 
Here  songs  antl  dances  succeed  each  other,  only  half 
heeded  by  the  public,  who  drink,  smoke,  and  chatter 
without  stint.  After  a  hornpipe,  a  dreailfid  woman  in 
white,  with  a  blue  pe[)hnn,  hoarsely  shouts  a  song  with- 
out music,  accompanied  by  drums  and  barbaric  cym- 
bals. She  makes  at  last  a  vile  courtesy,  matcliing  the 
insufficiency  of  her  dress  below  by  its  utter  absence 
above  the  waist,  and  we  take  ihght.  The  next  morn- 
ing witnesses  our  earl)-  departure  from  Marseilles. 


ROME.  45 


Rome. 


With  feelings  much  mingled,  I  approach,  for  the 
third  time,  the  city  of  Rome.  I  pause  to  collect  the 
experience  of  sixteen  years,  the  period  intervening  be- 
tween my  second  visit  and  the  present.  I  left  Rome, 
after  those  days,  with  entire  determination,  but  with  in- 
finite reluctance.  America  seemed  the  place  of  exile, 
Rome  the  home  of  sympathy  and  comfort.  To  console 
myself  for  the  termination  of  my  travels,  I  undertook  a 
mental  pilgrimage,  which  unfolded  to  me  something  of 
the  spirit  of  that  older  world,  of  which  I  had  found  the 
form  so  congenial.  To  the  course  of  private  experience 
were  added  great  public  lessons.  Among  these  I  may 
name  the  sublime  failure  of  John  Brown,  the  sorrow 
and  success  of  the  late  war.  And  now  I  must  confess 
that,  after  so  man}-  intense  and  vivid  pages  of  life,  this 
visit  to  Rome,  once  a  theme  of  fervent  and  solemn  de- 
sire, becomes  a  mere  page  of  embellishment  in  a  serious 
and  instructive  volume.  So,  while  my  countrymen  and 
women,  and  the  Roman  world  in  general,  hang  intent 
upon  the  pages  of  the  picture-book,  let  me  resume  my 
graver  argument,  and  ask  and  answer  such  questions  of 
the  present  as  may  seem  useful  and  not  ungenial. 

The  Roman  problem  has  for  the  American  thinker  two 
clauses  :  first,  that  of  state  and  society  ;  secondly,  that  of 
his  personal  relation  to  the  same.  Arriving  here,  and  be- 
coming in  some  degree  acquainted  with  things  as  they  are, 
he  asks,  first.  What  is  the  theory  of  this  society,  and  how 
long  will  it  continue?  secondly.  What  do  my  countrymen 


46  FROM    THE    OAK     TO    1  HE    OLIVJ-:, 

who  consent  to  pass  their  lives  here  gain?  what  do  the) 
give  up?  I  cannot  answer  either  of  these  questions  ex- 
haustively. The  first  would  lead  nic  far  into  social  the- 
orizing ;  the  second  into  some  ungracious  criticism.  So  a 
word,  a  friendly  one  must  stand  for  good  intentions 
where  wisdom  is  at  fault. 

The  theory  of  this  society  in  policy  and  religion  is 
that  of  a  symbolism  whose  remote  significance  has  long 
been  lost  sightof  and  forgotten.  Here  the  rulers,  whose 
derived  power  should  represent  the  consensus  of  the 
people,  afiect  to  be  greater  than  those  who  constitute 
them,  and  the  petty  statue,  raised  by  the  great  artist  for 
the  convenience  and  instruction  of  the  crowd,  spurns  at 
the  solid  basis  of  the  hcavcn-born  planet,  without  which 
it  could  not  stand.  Rank  here  is  not  a  mere  conven- 
ience and  classification  for  the  encouragement  of  virtue 
and  promotion  of  order.  Rank  here  takes  the  place 
of  virtue,  and  repression,  its  tool,  takes  the  place  of 
order.  A  paralysis  of  thought  characterizes  the  whole 
community,  for  thought  deprived  of  its  legitimate  re- 
sults is  like  the  huinan  race  debarred  from  its  productive 
functions  —  it  becomes  cflete,  and  soon  extinct. 

Abject  poverty  and  rudeness  characterize  the  lower 
class  {basso  ceto)^  bad  taste  and  want  of  education  the 
middle,  utter  arrogance  and  superficiality  the  upj^er 
class.  The  distinctions  between  one  set  of  human 
beings  and  another  are  held  to  be  absolute,  and  the  in- 
feriority of  opportunity,  carefully  preserved  and  exag- 
gerated, is  regarded  as  intrinsic,  not  accidental.  Vain 
is  it  to  plead  the  democratic  allowances  of  the  Catholic 


ROME.  47 

church.  The  eqiuiHty  of  man  before  God  is  here  pure- 
ly abstract  and  disembodied.  The  name  of  God,  on 
the  contrary,  is  invoked  to  authorize  the  most  flagrant 
inequalization  that  ignorance  can  prepare  and  institu- 
tions uphold.  The  finest  churches,  the  fairest  galleries, 
you  will  say,  are  open  to  the  poorest  as  to  the  richest. 
This  is  true.  But  the  man's  mind  is  the  castle  and  edi- 
fice of  his  life.  Look,  at  these  rough  and  ragged  peo- 
ple, unwashed,  uncombed,  untaught.  See  how  little 
sensible  they  are  of  the  decencies  and  amenities  of  life. 
Search  their  faces  for  an  intelligent  smile,  a  glance  that 
recognizes  beauty  or  fitness  in  any  of  the  stately  circum- 
stances that  surround  them.  They  are  kept  like  hwnan 
cattle,  and  have  been  so  kept  for  centuries.  And  their 
dominants  suppose  themselves  to  be  of  one  sort,  and  these 
of  another.  But  give  us  absolutism,  and  take  away  ed- 
ucation, even  in  rich  and  roomy  America,  and  what 
shall  we  have?  The  cruel  and  arrogant  slaveholder, 
the  vulgar  and  miserable  poor  white,  the  wronged  and 
degraded  negro.  The  three  classes  of  men  exist  in  all 
constituted  society.  Absolutism  allows  them  to  exist 
only  in  this  false  form. 

This  race  is  not  a  poor,  but  a  robust  and  kindly  one. 
Inclining  more  to  artistic  illustration  than  to  abstract 
thought,  its  gifts,  in  the  hierarchy  of  the  nations,  are 
eminent  and  precious.  Like  the  modern  Greek,  the 
modern  Celt,  and  the  modern  negro,  the  Italian  peasant 
asks  a  century  or  two  of  education  towards  modern  ideas. 
And  all  that  can  be  said  of  his  want  of  comprehension 
only  makes  it  the  more  evident  that  the  sooner  we  be- 
gin, the  better. 


4$  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    Tllli    OMVK. 

It  should  not  need,  to  Americans  or  Englishmen,  to  set 
out  any  formal  arginncnt  against  ahsolutism.  Among 
them  it  has  long  since  heen  tried  and  judged.  Enough  of 
its  advocacy  only  remains  to  present  that  opposition 
which  is  the  necessary  hasis  of  action.  And  yet  a  word 
to  my  countrymen  and  countrywomen,  who,  lingering  on 
the  edge  of  the  vase,  arc  lured  by  its  sweets,  and  fall  into 
its  imprisonment.  It  is  a  false,  false  superiority  to 
wliich  you  are  striving  to  join  yourself  A  prince  of 
jnippets  is  not  a  prince,  but  a  puppet ;  a  superfluous 
duke  is  no  dux  ;  a  titular  count  does  not  count.  Dresses, 
jewels,  and  equipages  of  tasteless  extravagance ;  the 
sickly  smile  of  disdain  for  simple  people  ;  the  clinging 
together,  by  turns  eager  and  haughty,  of  a  clique  that 
becomes  daily  smaller  in  intention,  and  whose  true  de- 
cline consists  in  its  numerical  increase,  —  do  not  dream 
that  these  lift  you  in  any  true  way  —  in  any  true  sense. 
For  Italians  to  believe  that  it  does,  is  natural ;  for  Eng- 
lishmen to  believe  it,  is  discreditable  ;  for  Americans, 
disgraceful. 

Leaving  philosophy  for  the  moment,  I  must  renew 
my  sketchy  pictures  of  the  scenes  I  pass  through,  lest 
treacherous  memory  should  relinquish  tlieir  best  traits 
unprescrved.  Arrived  in  Rome,  at  a  very  prosaic  and 
commonplace  station,  I  had  some  dilTiculty  in  recog- 
nizing tiie  front  of  Villa  Negroni,  an  old  papal  residence 
belonging  to  the  Massimi  family,  in  whose  wide  walls 
the  relatives  I  now  visit  had  formerly  built  their  nest.  A 
cosy  and  pleasant  one  it  was,  with  the  view  of  the  distant 
hills,  a  large  oitoiiragc  of  gardens,  a  fine  orange  grove. 


ROME.  49 

and  the  neighborhood  of  some  interesting  ruins  and 
churches.  With  all  the  cordiality  of  the  old  time  these 
relatives  now  met  me.  My  labors  of  baggage  and  con- 
veyance were  ended.  One  leads  me  to  the  carriage, 
where  another  waits  to  receive  me.  Time  has  been  in- 
dulgent, we  think,  to  both  of  us,  for  each  finds  the  other 
little  changed. 

And  now  we  begin  in  earnest  to  tread  the  fairy  land 
of  dreams.  Here  are  the  Quattro  Fontane,  there  is  the 
Qiiirinal,  yonder  the  dome  of  domes.  We  thread  the 
streets  in  which  I  used  to  hunt  for  small  jewelry  and 
pictures  at  a  bargain,  enacting  the  part  of  the  prodigal 
son,  and  providing  a  dinner  of  husks  for  the  sake  of  a  feast 
of  gewgaws.  A  certain  salutary  tingling  of  shame  visits 
my  cheeks  at  the  remembrance  of  the  same.  I  find  the 
personage  of  those  days  poor  and  trivial.  But  here  is 
the  Forum  of  Trajan,  and  soon  we  drive  within  a  pala- 
tial doorway,  and  our  guides  lead  us  up  a  stately  marble 
staircase  —  a  long  ascent ;  but  we  pause  finally,  and  a 
great  door  opens,  and  they  say.  Welcome  !  We  are  now 
at  home. 

Through  a  long  hall  we  go,  and  through  a  sweep  of 
apartments  unmatchable  in  Fifth  Avenue,  at  least  in 
architectural  dignity,  seconded  by  rich  and  measured 
taste  —  green  parlor,  crimson  parlor,  drab  parlor,  the 
lady's  room,  the  signore's  room,  the  children's  loom. 
And  in  the  guest-chamber  I  confronted  my  small  and 
dusty  self  in  the  glass  —  small,  not  especially  in  my 
human  proportions.  But  the  whole  of  my  modest 
house  in  B.  Place  would  easily,  as  to  solid  contents, 
4 


50  FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

lodge  in  the  largest  of  those  lofty  rooms.  The  Place 
itself  would  equally  lodge  in  the  palace.  I  regard  niy 
re-found  friends  with  wonder,  and  expect  to  sec  them 
execute  some  large  and  stately  manoeuvre,  indicating 
their  possession  of  all  this  space. 

And  now,  dinner  served  in  irreproachable  style,  and 
waited  on  by  two  young  men  whose  air  and  deportment 
would  amply  justify  their  appearance  at  Fapanti's  Hall 
on  any  state  occasion.  We  soon  grow  used  to  their 
polite  services  ;  but  at  first  Mario  and  Giuseppe  some- 
what intimidate  us. 

And   after  dinner,  talk   of  old   times  and  old  friends, 

question  of  this  region  and  the  other,  the  cold  limbo  as 

to  weather,  whence  we   come.     Long  and  familiar  is 

our  interchange  of  facts,  and  sleep  comes  too  soon,  yet 

is  welcome. 

St.  Peter's. 

The  first  day  in  Rome  sees  us  pursuing  the  phantom 
of  the  St.  Peter  ceremonies,  for  all  of  which,  tickets 
have  been  secured  for  us.  Solid  fact  as  the  performance 
of  the  fu>ictlojis  remains,  for  us  it  assumes  a  forcible 
unreality,  through  the  impeding  intervention  of  black 
dresses  and  veils,  with  what  should  be  women  under  them. 
But  as  these  creatures  push  like  battering-rams,  and 
caper  like  he-goats,  we  shall  prefer  to  adjourn  the 
(juestion  of  their  humanity,  and  to  give  it  the  benefit 
of  a  doubt.  We  must  except,  however,  our  country- 
women from  dear  Boston,  who  were  not  seen  otherwise 
than  decently  and  in  order.  Into  the  well-remembered 
palco  we  now  drag  the  trembling  neophyte,  dished  up 


ST.    PETER  S. 


51 


in  black  in  a  manner  altogether  astonishing  to  herself. 
And  we  push  her  youthful  head  this  way  and  that.  "  See, 
there  are  the  cardinals ;  there  is  the  pope ;  there,  in 
white-capped  row,  sit  the  pilgrims.  Now,  the  pope's 
mitre  being  removed,  he  proceeds  with  great  state  to 
wash  the  pilgrims'  feet."  But  she,  like  sister  Anne  in 
the  Blue  Beard  controversy,  might  reply,  "  I  see  only  a 
flock  of  black  dresses,  heaped  helter-skelter,  the  one  above 
the  other."  Some  bits  of  the  picture  she  does  get, 
certainly,  which  may  thus  be  catalogued :  "  Pope's 
nose,  black  dress,  ditto  skull-cap,  black  dress,  a  touch 
of  cardinal's  back,  black  dress  —  and  now  ?  Bla — ck 
dre — ss,  for  the  rest  of  the  time.  But  what  is  this  com- 
motion? For  now  the  he-goats  begin  to  jump  in  the 
most  extraordinary  way,  racing  out  of  the  tribune  as 
eagerly  as  they  had  pressed  into  it.  Their  haste  is  to  see 
the  tavola,  or  pilgrims'  table,  up  stairs,  where  the  pope 
and  cai-dinals  are  to  wait  upon  the  twelve  elect,  whose 
foot-washing  we  have  just  tried  to  see.  Silence,  decen- 
cy, decorum  —  all  are  forgotten.  One  in  diamonds  calls 
to  a  friend  in  the  crowd  outside,  "  Hollo,  Hollo  !  Come 
along  with  us !  "  and  at  the  top  of  her  voice.  If  "  the 
devil  take  the  hindmost "  be  the  moving  cause  of  this 
gymnastic,  I  would  humbly  suggest  that,  on  these  occa- 
sions, the  devil  certainly  seems  to  be  in  the  foremost. 
With  a  little  suppressed  grumbling,  we  tumble  out  of 
the  tribune,  and  descend  to  the  body  of  the  church, 
where  the  double  line  of  Swiss  guards  detains  us  so  long 
as  to  render  our  tickets  for  the  cupola,  where  the  pil- 
grims' feast  takes  place,  nearly  useless.  This  detention 
seems  to  be  entirely  arbitrary;  for  when,  after  endless 


52  FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

entreaty,  wc  are  allowed  to  reach  the  door,  an  easy  ingress 
is  allowed  lis.  And  here,  bit  by  bit,  the  neophyte  puz- 
zles out  the  significance  of  the  scene  before  her  —  a 
table  set  with  massive  golden  ornaments  (silver  gilt  at 
best),  the  twelve  white  caps  behind;  the  great  church 
dignitaries  handing  plates  of  fish,  vegetables,  and  fruit 
towards  the  table  ;  the  pope  hidden  behind  some  black 
dress  or  other,  and  a  chanting  of  prayers  or  texts,  we 
know  not  what.  The  whole  is  much  like  the  stage  ban- 
quet in  Macbeth,  the  part  of  Banquo's  ghost  being 
played  by  the  spirit  of  the  Christian  religion. 

And  now  away,  away  !  to  the  door  of  the  Sistine 
Chapel,  where  the  Allsercre  will  be  sung  at  six  of  the 
clock,  it  now  being  one  of  the  same.  So,  in  profane 
haste,  we  reach  that  door,  already  occupied  by  a  small 
mob  of  women  of  the  politer  sort,  and  others.  Here 
one  maintains  one's  position  till  two  o'clock,  when  the 
door  opens,  and,  in  shocking  disorder,  the  mob  enter. 
Those  who  keep  the  door  exclaim,  "  Do  not  push  so, 
ladies ;  there  is  room  for  all."  But  the  savageness  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  race  has  full  scope  to-day,  not  being  on 
its  good  behavior,  as  at  home.  So  the  abler-bodied  jam 
and  cram  the  less  athletic  without  stint.  After  falling 
harmlessly  on  my  face,  I  breathe  freely,  and  obtain  an 
end  seat  on  the  long  benches  reserved  for  the  unreserved 
ladies. 

And  here  passed  three  weary  hours  before  the  ofHce  be- 
gan, and  another  hour  after  that  before  the  musical  bonne 
bouchcy  coveted  by  these  people,  and  little  appreciated 
by  many  of  them,  was  oflcred  to  their  tired  acceptance. 


ST.    PETER  S.  53 

The  first  interval  was  mostly  employed  in  the  resusci- 
tating process  oi  chawing- u^on  such  victuals  as  had  not 
proved  contraband  for  such  an  occasion.  And  here 
were  exchanged  some  little  amenities  which  revived  our 
sinking  hopes  of  the  race.  Biscuits,  sandwiches,  and 
chocolate  pastilles  were  shared.  "  Muffin  from  the 
Hotel  de  Russie  "  was  offered  by  a  face  not  unknown. 
Munching  thereon  with  thankfulness,  we  interrogate,  and 
find  with  joy  a  Boston  woman.  O  comfort !  be  my 
friend  ;  and  when  the  next  black  rush  doth  come,  if  fisti- 
cuffs should  become  general  and  dangerous,  be  so  good 
as  to  belabor  the  woman  who  belabors  me. 

The  office  begins  at  five.  It  consists  mostly  of  linked 
sameness  long  drawn  out.  The  chapel  is  by  this  time 
well  filled  with  ceremonial  amateurs  in  every  sort  and 
quality.  Men  of  all  nationalities,  in  gentlemen's  dress, 
fill  the  seats  and  throng  the  aisle.  Priests,  ?Hiliiaircs, 
and  even  Sisters  of  Charity,  vary  the  monotony  of  the 
strict  coat  and  pantaloon.  Upon  an  upright  triangle,  as 
is  well  known,  are  spiked  the  fifteen  burning  candles,  of 
which  all,  save  one,  must  be  quenched  before  we  can 
enjoy  our  dear-bought  Miserere.  Much  of  our  atten- 
dant zeal  is  concentrated  upon  the  progress  visible  in 
their  decline.  The  effect  of  the  chanting  is  as  square 
and  monotonous  as  would  be  the  laying  down  of  so 
many  musical  paving-stones.  We  tried  to  peep  at  the 
Latin  text  of  a  book  of  prayers  in  the  hand  of  a  priest 
on  our  left ;  but  the  pitiless  Swiss  guard  caused  him  and 
his  Breviary  to  move  on,  and  this  resource  was  lost. 
About  half  way  through  the  office,  a  pause  came  over 


54  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

matters,  very  iinwelconic  to  our  hurry.  A  door  on  the 
left  of  the  altar  opened,  and  the  pope  entered,  preceded 
by  his  girard.  He  walked  to  his  throne  on  the  right  of 
the  altar,  and  the  chanting  was  resumed.  Some  time 
before  this,  however,  the  trcni  or  lamentations  were 
sung.  These  were  chanted  in  a  high  voice,  neither 
fresh  nor  exact,  and  did  not  make  on  me  the  impression 
of  sixteen  years  ago.  The  extinguishing  of  the  candles 
was  a  slow  agony,  the  intervals  appearing  endless. 
Finally,  all  the  lights  were  out.  The  one  burning 
taper  which  represented  Christ  was  removed  out  of 
sight,  the  pope  sank  upon  his  knees  before  the  altar, 
and  the  verses  of  the  jMiscrcre  were  sung.  Twilight 
and  fixed  attention  prevailed  through  the  chapel,  whose 
vaulted  roof  lends  a  certain  magic  of  its  own  to  the 
weird  cliant.  Yet,  with  the  remembrance  of  sixteen 
years  since,  and  with  present  judgment,  I  am  inclined 
to  consider  the  supremacy  of  the  Miserere  a  musical 
superstition.  I  know  not  what  critical  convictions  its 
literal  study  would  develop,  but,  as  I  heard  it,  much 
of  it  seemed  out  of  tune,  and  deformed  by  other  than 
musical  discords.  The  soprani^  without  exception, 
were  husky,  and  strained  their  voices  to  meet  tlie  higliest 
eflects.  The  vaulted  roof,  indeed,  gives  a  lovely  scope  to 
such  melody  as  there  is.  The  dim,  majestic  frescos, 
which  you  still  feel,  though  you  see  them  no  longer, — 
the  brilliancy  and  variety  of  the  company,  its  tempo- 
rary stillness,  —  all  these  circumstances  in  tliis  ne  plus 
ziltra  of  the  Roman  aesthetic  combine  to  impress  you. 
But  tlie   kneeling  pontiif  and   his  cardinals  did    not  ap- 


SUPPER    OF    THE    PILGRIMS.  55 

peai"  to  me  invested  with  any  true  priesthood.  I  could 
feel  no  religious  sympathy  with  their  movements,  which 
seemed  a  show,  and  part  of  a  show  —  nothing  more. 
And  when  the  verses  were  all  sung,  and  the  shuffling  of 
feet  at  the  end  got  through  with,  I  staid  not  to  see  the 
procession  into  the  Pauline  Chapel,  nor  the  adoration  of 
the  relics,  nor  the  mopping  of  St.  Peter's  altar.  I  had 
seen  enough  of  such  sights,  and,  quietly  wrapping  the 
twilight  about  my  discontent,  I  thankfully  went  where 
kindred  voices  and  a  kindred  faith  allowed  me  to  claim 
the  shelter  of  home. 

Supper  of  the  Pilgrims. 

Faster  go  these  shows  than  one  can  describe  them. 
On  Good  Friday  evening  we  attempted  only  to  see  the 
supper  of  the  female  pilgrims  at  the  Trinita  dei  Pelle- 
grini. This  again  I  undertook  for  the  neophytes'  sake, 
having  myself  once  witnessed  the  august  ceremony. 
Here,  as  everywhere  at  this  time,  we  found  a  crowd  of 
black  dresses,  with  and  without  veils,  which,  on  this 
occasion,  are  optional.  Another  mob  of  women,  small 
but  energetic  ;  another  rush  to  see  what,  under  other 
circumstances,  we  should  hold  to  be  but  a  sorry  sight. 
The  pilgrims  are  waited  upon  by  an  association  of 
ladies,  who  wear  a  sort  of  feminine  overall  in  scarlet 
cotton,  nearly  concealing  a  dress,  usually  black,  of  ordi- 
nary wear.  They  are  also  distinguished  by  a  pictorial 
badge,  representing,  I  think,  the  Easter  Lamb,  in  some 
connection.  Some  of  these  ladies"  are  of  princely  fimily, 
others  of  rank  merely  civic.     Princess  Massimo,  of  first- 


56  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

rate  pretensions,  keeps  the  inner  entrance  to  the  rites, 
and  accords  it  only  to  a  limited  number  in  turn.  We 
tumble  down  tlie  dividing  stairs  in  the  usual  indecorous 
manner,  and  walk  through  two  rooms,  in  each  of  which 
the  pilgrims  sit  with  their  feet  in  tubs  of  water,  the  at- 
tendant ladies  being  employed  either  in  scrubbing  them 
clean,  or  in  wiping  them  dry.  All  were  working  wo- 
men from  the  country,  their  faces  mostly  empty  of 
thought  and  rude  with  toil.  Some  of  the  heads  were 
not  without  character,  and  would  easily  have  made, 
with  their  folded  head-dresses,  a  genre  picture.  In 
general,  they  and  their  attire  were  as  rough  and  unin- 
teresting as  women  and  their  belongings  can  be.  A 
number  of  them  carried  infants,  whose  appearance  also 
invited  the  cleansing  ministration,  which  did  not  include 
them.  In  either  room  an  ecclesiastic  recited  prayers  in 
Latin,  and  a  pretty  young  lady  at  intervals  rattled  a  box, 
the  signal  for  the  participants  to  make  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  which  they  did  in  a  business-like  manner.  From 
this  lavanda  we  passed  to  other  rooms,  in  which  the 
supper  tables  were  in  process  of  preparation.  The  ma- 
terials for  the  meal  were  divided  into  portions.  To  each 
one  was  allotted  a  plate  of  salad  and  sardines,  one  of 
bacala^  or  fried  salt  fish,  two  small  loaves  of  bread,  and 
a  little  pitcher  of  wine,  together  with  figs  and  oranges. 
The  red-gowned  ministrants  bestirred  themselves  in  di- 
viding and  arranging  tliese  portions,  with  much  appar- 
ent good  nature.  !Many  of  them  wore  diamond  earrings, 
and  one  young  lady,  wdiom  we  did  not  see  at  work,  was 
adorned  as  to  the  neck  with  a  rich  collar  of  jewelled 


SUPPER   OF   THE    PILGRIMS.  57 

lockets,  an  article  of  the  latest  fashion.  All  of  these 
ladies  are  supposed  to  be  princesses,  but  several  of  them 
talked  house-gossip  in  homely  Italian.  To  us  the  time 
seemed  long,  but  at  length  arrived  the  minestra  in  a 
huge  kettle.  This  universal  Italian  dish  is  a  watery 
soup,  containing  a  paste  akin  to  macaroni.  And  now 
the  pilgrims,  having  had  all  the  washing  they  could  en- 
dure, came  in  to  take'  possession  of  the  goods  prepared 
for  them.  Those  of  the  same  family  tried  to  sit  together, 
but  did  not  always  manage  to  do  so.  For  every  babe 
a  double  portion  is  allowed,  and  the  coin  (ten  cents) 
received  at  departure  is  also  doubled.  We  had  feared 
lest  the  pilgrims  might  have  found  the  presence  of  num- 
bers a  source  of  embarassment.  But  it  did  not  prove 
so.  They  attacked  their  victuals  with  the  most  practi- 
cal and  evident  enjoyment.  The  babies  were  fed  with 
minestra^  fish,  salad,  and  wine.  Of  these  one  was  two 
weeks  old,  and  its  mother  had  walked  four  days  to  get 
to  Rome.  Each  pilgrim  carried  either  a  bottle  or  a  tin 
canteen,  into  which  the  superior  waiting-women  decant- 
ed the  wine  allowed,  that  they  might  carry  it  home  with 
them.  A  Latin  grace  was  rehearsed  before  they  fell  to. 
Cardinals  and  monsignori  were  se'en,  here  and  there, 
talking  with  friends  among  the  spectators.  Observing 
that  pilgrims  eat  much  like  other  people,  we  left  them 
still  at  table,  and  came  away,  to  find  the  Prince  Massimo 
in  pink  cotton,  at  the  bottom  of  the  staircase,  and  a 
stupid  Swiss,  with  ill-managed  bayonet,  guarding  the 
outer  entrance.  He,  a  raw  recruit,  carried  his  weapon 
as  carelessly  as  a   lady  waves  a  bouquet.     Close  to  the 


58  FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

eye  of  the  neophyte  he  thrusts  it,  through  inattention. 

A  scream  from  me  makes  her  aware  of  the  danger,  but 

aftccts  him  not.     Under  the  weight  of  my  objurgation 

he  fiilters  not,  but  makes  a  vehement  pass  at  a  harmless 

dog,    which    runs    by    unhurt.       And    my    reflections 

upon    his  sheer  brutishness  were   the  closing  ones  of 

the  day. 

Easter. 

St.  Peter's  on  Easter  called  us  with  the  magical  sum- 
mons of  the  silver  trumpets,  blown  at  the  elevation  of 
the  host,  and  remembered  by  me  through  these  sixteen 
years.  To  the  tribunes,  however,  I  did  not  betake  my- 
self, but,  armed  with  a  camp  stool,  wandered  about  the 
church,  getting  now  a  coup  d\vll^  now  a  whifF  of  har- 
mony. The  neophytes  had  our  tickets,  and  beheld  the 
ceremonies,  which,  once  seen,  are  of  little  interest  to 
those  to  whom  they  are  not  matters  of  religion.  The 
pope  and  cardinals  officiate  at  high  mass,  with  the  mu- 
sic of  the  Sistine  singers.  The  pope  drinks  of  the  con- 
secrated cup  through  a  golden  tube,  the  cup  itself  hav- 
ing previously  been  tasted  of  by  one  commissioned 
for  the  purpose.  This  feature  clearly  indicates  the  rec- 
ognized possibility  of  poison.  It  is  probably  not  ob- 
served by  most  of  those  present,  who  have,  after  all,  but 
a  glimpse  of  what  passes.  The  etVcct  of  the  trumpets 
is  certainly  magical.  The  public  has  no  knowledge  of 
their  whereabouts,  and  the  sound  seems  to  fall  from 
some  higher  region.  Having  enjoyed  this  lesthetic 
moment,  one  hurries  out  into  the  piazza  in  front  of  the 
church,  where  a  great  assemblage  waits  to  receive  the 
]);ipal   benediction.     Here    seats   and   balconies  can  be 


EASTER.  59 

hired,  and  a  wretched  boy  screeches,  '•''Ecco  hcog/ii"  for 
half  an  hour,  as  if  he  had  a  watchman's  rattle  in  his 
head.  At  last  the  blessed  father  in  his  palanquin  is  borne 
to  that  upper  window  of  the  church,  over  which  the 
white  canopy  rests  :  his  mitres  are  all  arranged  before 
him.  The  triple  crown,  glittering  with  jewels,  is  on 
his  head.  On  either  side  of  him  flutter  the  peacock 
fans.  Cannons  clear  the  way  for  his  utterance,  and 
holding  up  two  fingers,  he  recites  the  apostolic  benedic- 
tion in  a  voice  of  remarkable  distinctness  and  power. 
It  is  received  by  good  Catholics  on  their  knees.  An- 
other cannon  shot  closes  the  performance,  and  at  the 
same  moment  two  or  three  papers,  containing  indul- 
gences, fall  from  the  pontiff's  hand.  Then  the  crowd  dis- 
perses, and  you  yourself,  having  witnessed  "  the  most 
impressive  ceremony  in  the  world,"  become  chiefly  oc- 
cupied with  the  getting  home,  the  crowd  of  carriages 
being  very  great,  and  the  bridge  of  St.  Angelo  reserved 
for  the  passage  of  the  legni  privilegiati.  And  on  the 
way,  query  as  to  this  impressiveness.  If  one  could  sup- 
pose that  the  pope  had  any  special  blessing  to  bestow, 
or  that  he  thought  he  had,  one  would  certainly  be  desi- 
rous and  grateful  to  share  in  it.  If  one  could  consider 
him  as  consecrated  by  anything  better  than  a  supersti- 
tion for  anything  better  than  the  priestly  maintenance 
of  an  absolute  rule,  one  might  look  in  his  kindly  old- 
face  with  a  feeling  stronger  than  that  of  personal  good- 
will or  indifference.  But  I,  standing  to  see  and  hear 
him,  was  in  the  position  of  Macbeth. 

"  I  had  most  need  of  blessing,  but  Amen 
Stuck  in  mv  tliroat." 


6o  I-ROM    THK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

And  I  concluded  that  common  sense,  common  jus- 
tice, and  civil  and  religious  liberty,  —  the  noblest  gilts 
of  the  past  and  promises  of  the  future,  —  had  been 
quite  long  enough 

"Butchered  to  make  a  Roman  holiday." 

As  for  the  evening  illumination,  it  was  just  as  I  re- 
member it  on  two  former  occasions,  separated  from  this 
and  from  each  other  by  long  intervals.  A  magical  and 
unique  spectacle  it  certainly  is,  with  the  well-known 
change  from  the  paper  lanterns  to  the  flaring  lampions. 
Costly  is  it  of  human  labor,  and  perilous  to  human  life. 
And  when  I  remembered  that  those  employed  in  it  re- 
ceive the  sacrament  beforehand,  in  order  that  immi- 
nent death  may  not  find  them  out  of  a  state  of  grace,  I 
thought  that  its  beauty  did  not  so  much  signify. 

We  have  a  dome,  too,  in  Washington.  The  Genius  of 
Liberty  poises  on  its  top ;  the  pediment  below  it  is 
adorned  with  the  emblems  of  honest  thrift  and  civic  pros- 
perity. May  that  dome  perish  ere  it  be  lit  at  the  risk  of 
human  life,  and  lit,  like  this,  to  make  the  social  dark- 
ness around  it  more  evident  by  its  momentary  aureole. 

Works  of  Aut. 

Enough  of  shows.  Galleries  and  studios  are  better. 
Rome  is  rich  in  botii,  and  with  a  sort  of  studious  con- 
tentment, one  embraces  one's  Murray,  picks  out  the  pal- 
ace that  unfolds  its  art  treasures  to-day,  and  travels  up 
the  stairs,  and  along  the  marble  corridors,  to  wonderful 
suites  of  apartments,  in  which  the  pasteboard  pro- 
granmics  lie  about  waiting  for  you,  while  the  still  drama 


WORKS    OF    ART.  6 1 

of  the  pictures  acts  itself  upon  the  thronged  wall,  your- 
self their  small  public,  and  they  giving  their  color-elo- 
quence, whether  any  one  gives  heed  or  not. 

They  are  precious,  the  Colonna,  Doria,  Sciarra,  Bor- 
ghese,  and  we  have  seen  them.  We  have  picked  out 
our  old  favorites,  and  have  carried  the  neophytes  before 
them,  saying,  "  I  saw  this,  dear,  before  you  were  born." 
But  this  past,  whose  reflex  fold  inwraps  us,  does  not 
exist  for  the  neophytes,  who  look  at  it  as  out  of  a  mo- 
ment's puzzle,  and  then  conclude  to  begin  their  own 
business  on  their  own  responsibility,  without  any  refer- 
ence to  these  outstanding  credits  of  ours. 

Of  the  pictures  it  is  little  useful  to  speak.  Your  de- 
scription enables  no  one  to  see  them,  and  the  narration 
of  the  feelings  they  excite  in  you  is  as  likely  to  be  tedious 
as  interesting  to  those  who  cultivate  feelings  of  their 
own.  Copies  and  engravings  have  done  here  what  you 
cannot  do,  and  the  best  subjects  are  familiar  to  art  stu- 
dents and  lovers  in  all  countries.  A  little  sigh  of  pleas- 
ure may  be  allowed  you  at  this,  your  third  sight  of  the 
Francias,  the  Raphaels,  Titian's  Bella,  Claude's  land- 
scapes, and  the  scientific  Leonardo's  heavily-labored 
heads  and  groups.  But  do  not  therefore  put  the  trumpet 
to  your  lips,  and  blow  that  sigh  across  the  ocean,  to 
claim  the  attention  of  ears  that  invite  the  lesson  for  the 
day.  The  lesson  for  this  day  is  not  written  on  canvas, 
and  though  it  may  be  read  everywhere  in  the  world,  }ou 
will  scarcely  find  its  clearest  type  in  Rome. 

And  here,  perhaps,  I  may  as  well  carry  further  the  phi- 
losophizing which  I  began  a  week  ago  with  regard  to 
the  objects  and  resources  of  Roman  life,  and  their  com- 


62  IKO.M    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

patihility  with  the  thouglits  and  pursuits  most  dear  and 
vakiable  to  Americans. 

Art  is,  of  course,  the  only  solid  object  which  an 
American  can  bring  forward  to  justify  a  prolonged  resi- 
dence in  Rome.  Art,  health,  and  official  duty,  are 
among  the  valid  reasons  which  bring  our  countrymen 
abroad.  Two  of  these  admit  of  no  argument.  The 
sick  have  a  right,  other  things  permitting,  to  go  where 
they  can  be  bettered  ;  a  duty  perhaps,  to  go  where  the 
sum  of  their  waning  years  and  wasting  activities  admits 
of  multiplication.  Those  who  live  abroad  as  ministers 
and  consuls  have  a  twofold  ojoportunity  of  benefiting 
their  country.  If  honest  and  able,  they  may  benefit  her 
by  their  presence  in  foreign  lands;  if  unworthy  and 
incompetent,  by  their  absence  from  home.  But  our  ar- 
tists are  those  whose  expatriation  gives  us  most  to  think 
about.  They  take  leave  of  us  either  in  tlie  first  bloom 
or  in  the  full  matmity  of  their  powers.  The  ease  of 
living  in  Southern  Europe,  the  abundance  of  models  atid 
of  works  of  art,  the  picturesque  charms  of  nature  ant!  of 
scenery,  detain  them  forever  from  us,  and,  save  for  an 
abstract  sentiment,  which  itself  weakens  with  every 
year,  the  sacred  tie  of  country  is  severed.  Its  sensibili- 
ties play  no  part  in  these  lives  devoted  to  painting  and 
modelling. 

Now,  an  eminent  gift  for  art  is  an  exceptional  circum- 
stance, lie  who  has  it  weds  his  profession,  leaves 
father  and  mother,  and  goes  where  his  slowly-unfold- 
ing destiny  seems  to  call  him.  Against  such  a 
course  we  have  no  word  to  say.     It  presents  itself  as  a 


WORKS    OF    ART.  63 

necessary  conclusion  to  earnest  and  noble  men,  who 
love  not  their  native  country  less,  but  their  votive  coun- 
try more.     Of  the  first  and  its  customs   they  would  still 

say,  — 

"  I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were 
That  were  most  precious  to  me." 

Yet  of  this  career,  so  often  coveted  by  those  to  wiiom 
its  attainment  does  not  open,  I  cannot  speak  in  terms 
of  supreme  recognition.  The  office  of  art  is  always  as 
precious  as  its  true  ministers  are  rare.  But  the  rela- 
tive importance  of  sculptural  and  pictorial  art  is  not 
to-day  what  it  was  in  days  of  less  tiiought,  of  smaller 
culture.  Every  one  who  likes  the  Bible  to-day,  likes  it 
best  without  illustrations.  Were  Christ  here  to  speak 
.anew,  he  would  speak  without  parables.  In  ruder 
times,  heavenly  fancies  could  only  be  illustrated  on  the 
one  hand,  received  on  the  other,  through  the  mediation 
of  a  personal  embodiment.  Only  through  human  sym- 
pathy was  the  assent  to  divine  truth  obtained.  The 
necessity  which  added  a  feminine  personality  to  the 
worship  of  Christ,  and  completed  the  divided  Godhead 
by  making  it  female  as  well  as  male,  was  a  philosophi- 
cal one,  but  not  recognized  as  such.  The  device  of  the 
Virgin  was  its  practical  result,  counterbalancing  the 
partiality  of  the  one-sided  personal  c?///e  of  the  Savior. 
Modern  religious  thought  gets  far  beyond  this,  makes 
in  spiritual  things  no  distinction  of  male  and  female, 
and  does  not  apply  sex  to  the  Divine,  save  in  the  most 
vague  and  poetic  sense.  The  inner  convictions  of 
heart    and   conscience    may    now    be    spoken    in    plain 


64  FROM   THE    OAK    TO    TIIli:    OLIVE. 

prose,  or  sung  in  ringing  verse.  The  vatcs,  prophet 
or  reformer,  may  prochiim  his  system  and  pubHsh  his 
behef;  and  his  audience  will  best  apprehend  it  in  its 
simplest  and  most  direct  form.  The  wide  spaces  of  the 
new  continent  allow  room  for  the  most  precious  practi- 
cal experimentation  ;  and  speculative  and  theoretical 
liberFy  keep  pace  with  liberty  of  action.  The  only 
absolute  restraint,  the  best  one,  is  a  moral  one.  "  Thou 
shalt  not"  applies  only  to  what  is  intrinsically  inhu- 
man and  profane.  And  now,  there  is  no  need  to  puz- 
zle simple  souls  with  a  marble  gospel.  Faith  needs  not 
to  digest  whole  side-walls  of  saints  and  madonnas,  who 
once  stood  for  something,  no  one  now  knows  what. 
The  Italian  school  was  to  art  what  the  Greek  school 
was  to  literature  —  an  original  creation  and  beginning. 
But  life  has  surpassed  Plato  and  Aristotle.  We  are 
forced  to  piece  their  short  experiences,  and  to  say  to 
both,  "  You  are  matchless,  but  insufficient."  And  so, 
tliough  Raphael's  art  remains  immortal  and  unsur- 
passed, we  are  forced  to  say  of  his  thought,  "  It  is  too 
small."  No  one  can  settle,  govern,  or  moralize  a  coun- 
try by  it.  It  will  not  even  suffice  to  reform  Italy.  The 
golden  transfigurations  hang  quiet  on  the  walls,  and  let 
pope  and  cardinal  do  their  worst.  We  want  a  world 
l^eopled  with  faithful  and  intelligent  men  and  women. 
The  Prometheus  of  the  present  day  is  needed  rather  to 
animate  statues  than  to  make  them. 


piazza  navona  —  the  tombola.  65 

Piazza  Navona  —  The  Tombola. 

When,  O,  when  does  the  bee  make  his  honey?  Not 
while  he  is  sipping  from  flower  to  flower,  levying  his 
dainty  tribute  as  lightly  as  love  —  enriching  the  world 
with  what  the  flower  does  not  miss,  and  cannot. 

This  question  suggests  itself  in  the  course  of  these 
busy  days  in  Rome,  where  pleasures  are  offered  oftener 
than  sensibilities  can  ripen,  and  the  edge  of  appetite  is 
blunted  with  sweets,  instead  of  rusting  with  disuse.  In 
these  scarce  three  weeks  how  much  have  we  seen,  how 
little  recorded  and  described  !  So  sweet  has  been  the 
fable,  that  the  intended  moral  has  passed  like  an  act  in 
a  dream  —  a  thing  of  illusion  and  intention,  not  of  fact. 
Impotent  am  I,  indeed,  to  describe  the  riches  of  this 
Roman  world,  —  its  treasures,  its  pleasures,  its  flat- 
teries, its  lessons.  Of  so  much  that  one  receives,  one 
can  give  again  but  the  smallest  shred,  —  a  leaf  of  each 
flower,  a  scrap  of  each  garment,  a  proverb  for  a  ser- 
mon, a  stave  for  a  song.  So  be  it;  so,  perhaps,  is  it 
best. 

Last  Sunday  I  attended  a  Tombola  at  Piazza  Navo- 
na —  not  a  state  lottery,  but  a  private  enterprise  brought 
to  issue  in  the  most  public  manner.  I  know  the  Piazza 
of  old.  Sixteen  years  since  I  made  many  a  pilgrimage 
thither,  in  search  of  Roman  trash.  I  was  not  then  past 
the  poor  amusement  of  spending  money  for  the  sake  of 
spending  it.  The  foolish  things  I  brought  home  moved 
the  laughter  of  my  little  Roman  public.  I  appeared  in 
public  with  some  forlorn  brooch  or  dilapidated  earring; 
5 


66  FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

the  giddy  laughed  outriglit,  and  the  polite  gazed  quietly. 
My  rooms  were  the  reluge  of  all  broken-down  vases 
and  halting  candelabra.  I  lived  on  the  third  floor  of  a 
modest  lodging,  and  all  the  wrecks  of  art  that  neither 
first,  second,  nor  fourth  would  buy,  found  their  way 
into  my  parlor,  and  staid  there  at  my  expense.  I  re- 
call some  of  these  adornments  to-day.  Two  heroes,  in 
painted  wood,  stood  in  my  dark  little  entry.  A  gouty 
Cupid  in  bas-relief  encumbered  my  mantel-piece.  Two 
forlorn  figures  in  black  and  white  glass  recalled  the 
auction  whose  luilucky  prize  tliey  had  been.  And  Hor- 
ace Wallace,  coming  to  talk  of  art  and  poetry,  on  my 
red  sofa,  sometimes  saluted  me  with  a  paroxysm  of 
merriment,  provoked  by  the  sight  of  my  last  purchase. 
Those  days  are  not  now.  Of  their  accimnilations  I 
retain  but  a  fragment  or  two.  Of  their  delights  remain 
a  tender  memory,  a  childish  wonder  at  my  own  cliild- 
ishness.  To-day,  in  heathen  Rome,  I  can  lind  better 
amusements  than  those  shards  and  rags  were  ever  able 
to  represent. 

Going  now  to  Piazza  Navona  with  a  sober  and  rea- 
sonable companion,  I  scarcely  recognize  it.  At  the 
Braschi  Palace,  which  borders  it,  we  pause,  and  enter 
to  observe  the  square  hall  and  the  line  staircase  of  pol- 
ished marble.  This  palace  is  now  otlered  in  a  lottery, 
at  five  francs  tlie  ticket ;  and  all  orders  in  Rome,  no 
doul)t,  participate  in  the  venture  it  presents.  The 
immense  piazza  is  so  filled  and  thronged  with  people 
that  its  distinctive  features  are  quite  lost.  Its  numerous 
balconies  arc   crowded  with   that  doubtful  community 


PIAZZA    NAVONA THE    TOMBOLA.  (>"] 

comprehended  in  the  title  of  the  "  bettei'  class."  From 
many  of  its  windows  hang  the  red  cotton  draperies, 
edged  with  gilt  lace,  which  supply  so  much  of  the  color 
in  Roman  festas.  Soldiers  are  everywhere  mingled 
with  the  crowd,  so  skilfully  as  to  present  no  contrast 
with  them,  but  so  effectually  that  any  popular  disorder 
would  be  instantly  suppressed.  The  dragoons,  mounted 
and  bearing  sabres,-  are  seen  here  and  thei-e  in  the 
streets  leading  to  the  piazza.  These  constitute  the 
police  of  Rome  ;  and  where  with  us  a  civil  man  with  a 
badge  interposes  himself  and  says,  "No  entrance  here, 
sir,"  in  Rome  an  arbitrary,  ignorant  beast,  mounted 
upon  a  lesser  brute,  waves  his  sabre  at  you,  shrieks  un- 
intelligible threats  and  orders,  and  has  the  pleasure  of 
bringing  your  common  sense  to  a  fiiult,  and  of  making 
all  understanding  of  what  is  or  is  not  to  be  done  impos- 
sible. Their  greatest  glory,  however,  culminates  on 
public  festas,  when  there  ai'e  foreigners  as  well  as 
Romans  to  be  intimidated.  At  the  Tombola  they  are 
only  an  e??  cas. 

Well,  the  office  of  the  Tombola  is  solemnized  upon 
a  raised  stage,  whereon  stand  divers  officials,  two 
seedy  trumpeters,  and  a  small  boy  in  fancy  costume, 
whose  duty  soon  becomes  apparent.  Before  him  rests 
a  rotatory  machine,  composed  of  two  disks  of  glass, 
bound  together  by  a  band  of  brass :  this  urn  of  fate 
revolves  upon  a  pivot,  and  is  provided  w^ith  an  opening, 
through  which  the  papers  bearing  the  numbers  are  put 
in,  to  be  drawn  out,  one  by  one,  after  certain  i-evolu- 
tions    of  the    machine.      Not   quite    so  fast,    however, 


68  I-KO.M    TllK    OAK    TO    TIIH    OLIVE. 

witli  your  drawing.  The  numbers  are  not  all  in  3'et.  A 
grave  man,  in  a  black  coat,  holds  up  each  number  to 
the  public  view,  calls  it  in  his  loudest  tones,  and  then 
hands  it  to  another,  who  folds  and  slips  it  into  the  recep- 
tacle. When  all  of  the  numbers  have  been  verified  and 
deposited,  the  opening  is  closed  up,  the  trumpeters  sound 
a  bar  or  two,  the  wheel  revolves,  the  fancy  boy  paws  the 
air  with  his  right  hand,  puts  the  hand  into  tlie  opening, 
and  draws  forth  a  number,  which  the  second  black  coat 
presents  to  the  first,  who  unfolds  it,  and  announces  it  to 
the  multitude.  At  the  same  moment,  a  huge  card,  some 
two  feet  square  in  dimensions,  is  placed  in  a  frame,  and 
upon  this  we  read  the  number  just  drawn  out.  The 
number  is  also  shown  upon  several  large  wooden 
frames  in  other  parts  of  the  square.  Upon  these  it 
remains,  so  that  the  whole  countof  the  drawing  may  be 
apparent  to  the  eager  public.  This  course  of  action  is 
repeated  until  a  stir  in  one  part  of  the  piazza  announces 
a  candidate  for  one  of  the  smaller  prizes.  A  white  flag, 
repeated  at  all  the  counting  frames,  arrests  the  public 
attention.  The  candidate  brings  forward  his  ticket  and 
is  examined.  Finally,  a  qiiatcrna  is  announced,  formed 
by  the  agreement  of  four  numbers  on  a  ticket  with  four 
in  the  order  of  the  drawing.  The  crowd  applaud,  the 
trumpets  sound  again,  and  the  drawing  proceeds.  Un- 
happily, at  one  moment  the  i:)crsons  on  duty  forget  to 
close  the  valve  through  which  the  numbers  are  taken 
out.  The  omission  is  not  perceived  until  several  rota- 
tions have  shaken  out  many  of  the  precious  papers.  A 
roar  of  indignation   is    heard    from  the   populace  ;   the 


PIAZZA   NAVONA  —  THE    TOMBOLA.  69 

wheel  is  arrested,  the  numbers  eagerly  sought,  counted, 
and  replaced,  under  the  jealous  scrutiny  of  the  public 
eye.  Meanwhile,  one  of  two  copious  brass  bands,  pro- 
vided with  five  ophicleides  each,  and  cornets,  etc.,  to 
match,  discoursed  tarantellas  and  polkas.  And  we  see 
the  qicinqiiina  (formed  by  five  numbers)  drawn,  and 
then  the  first  Tombola,  and  the  second.  And  lo  !  there 
are  four  tombolas :  but  we  await  them  not.  But  in  all 
this  crowd,  busy  with  emotion  and  reeking  with  tobacco 
and  Roman  filth  in  all  its  varieties,  who  shall  interest 
us  like  the  Umonaro  with  his  basket  of  fruit,  his  bottles 
of  water,  his  lemon  squeezer,  and  his  eager  thrifty  coun- 
tenance? A  father  of  family,  surely,  he  loves  no  plays 
as  thou  dost,  Anthony.  Pale,  in  shirt  sleeves,  he  keeps 
the  sharpest  lookout  for  a  customer,  and  in  voice  whose 
measure  is  not  to  be  given,  hammers  out  his  endless 
sentence,  "  Chi  vuol  here  ?  Ecco^  il  Ihno7taro."  To  the 
most  doubtful  order  he  responds,  carrying  his  glasses 
into  the  thickest  of  the  throng,  and  thundering,  "  Chi 
ha  co7nandato  qiicsto  linione  ?  For  half  a  bajoco  he 
gives  a  quarter  of  a  lemon,  wrung  out  in  a  glass  of 
tepid  water,  which  his  customers  absorb  with  relish. 
Sometimes  he  varies  this  procedure  by  the  sale  of  an 
orzata,  produced  by  pouring  a  few  drops  of  a  milky 
fluid  into  a  glass  of  water.  On  our  way  from  the 
piazza  we  encounter  other  limonari,  —  dark,  sleepy, 
Italian,  not  trenchant  nor  incisive  in  their  ofters.  But 
our  man,  a  blond,  yet  remains  a  picture  to  us,  with 
his  business  zeal  and  economy  of  time.  A  thread  of 
good  blood  he  possibly  has.  We  adopt  and  pity  him 
as  a  misplaced  Yankee. 


70  from  the  oak  to  the  oeive. 

Sundays  in  Rome. 

Our  first  Sunday  in  Rome  was  Easter,  in  St.  Peter's, 
of  which  we  have  elsewhere  given  a  suflicicnt  descrip- 
tion. Our  second  was  divided  between  the  Tombola 
just  described,  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  quiet  of  tlie 
American  Chapel  in  the  morning.  We  found  this  an 
upper  chamber,  quietly  and  appropriately  furnished, 
with  a  pleasant  and  well-dressed  attendance  of  friends 
and  fellow  country-people.  The  prayers  of  the  Episco- 
pal service  were  simply  read,  with  no  extra  formality 
or  aping  of  more  traditional  forms.  It  was  pleasant  to 
find  ourselves  called  upon  once  more  to  pray  for  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  although  in  our  own 
country  he  is  considered  as  past  praying  for.  Still, 
we  remembered  the  old  adage,  "  while  there  is  life 
there  is  hope,"  and  were  able,  with  a  good  conscience, 
to  beseech  that  he  might  be  plenteously  endowed  with 
heavenly  grace,  although  the  reception  of  such  a  gift 
might  seriously  compromise  him  with  his  own  party. 
The  sermon,  like  others  we  have  heard  of  late,  shows 
a  certain  progress  and  liberalization  even  in  the  hold- 
ing of  the  absolute  tenets  which  constitute  what  has 
been  hitherto  held  as  orthodoxy.  In  our  youth,  the 
Episcopal  church,  like  the  orthodox  dissenters,  preached 
atonement,  atonement,  atonement,  wrath  of  God,  birth 
in  sin,  —  position  of  sentimental  reprobation  towards 
the  one  fact,  of  unavailing  repentance  concerning 
tiie  other.  The  doctrine  of  atonement  in  those  days 
was    as    literal    in     the    Protestant    cluuch    as    in    the 


SUNDAYS    IN    ROME.  ^I 

Catholic,  while  the  possibility  of  profiting  b}'-  it  was 
hedged  about  and  encumbered  by  frightful  perils  and 
intangible  difficulties.  But  to-day,  while  these  doc- 
trines are  not  repudiated  by  the  denominations  which 
then  held  them,  they  are  comparatively  set  out  of  sight. 
The  charity  and  diligence  of  Paul  are  preached,  and 
even  the  sublime  theistic  simplicity  of  Jesus  is  not 
altogether  contraband ;  though  he,  alas !  is  as  little 
understood  in  doctrine  as  followed  in  example.  For 
he  has  hitherto  been  like  a  beautiful  figure  set  to 
point  out  a  certain  way,  and  people  at  large  have 
been  so  entranced  with  worshipping  the  figure,  that 
they  have  neglected  to  follow  the  direction  it  indicates. 

Well,  our  American  sermon  was  dry,  but  sensible  and 
conscientious.  It  did  not  congratulate  those  who  had 
accepted  the  mysterious  atonement,  nor  threaten  those 
who  had  neglected  to  do  so.  But  it  exhorted  all  men 
towards  a  reasonable,  religious,  and  diligent  life,  and 
thus  afforded  the  commonplace  man  a  basis  for  effort, 
and  a  possible  gradual  amelioration  of  his  moral  con- 
dition. One  little  old-fashioned  phrase,  however,  the 
preacher  let  slip.  He  cast  a  slight  slur  upon  the  moral, 
as  distinguished  from  the  religious  man.  Now,  mod- 
ern ethics  do  not  recognize  this  distinction.  For  it, 
true  morals  are  religion.  He  who  exemplifies  the 
standard  does  it  more  honor  than  he  who  praises,  and 
pursues  it  not.  And  he  who  prays  and  plunders  is 
less  a  saint  than  he  who  does  neither.  We  passed 
this,  however,  and  went  away  in  peace. 

Our    third    Sunday    morning    was  passed  in    S,  An- 


73  FROM    TilE    OAK   TO    THE    OLIVE. 

drca  dclla  Vallc^  a  large  and  sumptuous  cliurcli,  where 
we  had  been  promised  a  fine  mcssa-cautata,,  i.  e.,  a 
mass  performed  principally  in  music.  Mustafa,  of 
the  pope's  choir,  was  there,  with  some  ten  other  vo- 
calists, who  put  into  their  Kyric,  Miserere^  and  so 
on,  as  much  operatic  emphasis  and  cadence  as  the 
bars  could  hold.  The  organ  was  harsh,  loud,  and  over- 
powering, the  music  utterly  uninteresting.  Mustafa's 
renowned  voice,  which  has  sulTcred  by  time  and  use, 
has  something  nasal  and  criard  in  it,  with  all  its  power. 
He  still  takes  and  holds  A  and  B  with  firmness  and  per- 
sistence, but  his  middle  notes  are  unequal  antl  husky. 
Although  the  sopranos  of  to-dav  are  merely  falsetto 
tenors,  and  their  unscxcd  voices  a  fiction,  they  yet  ac- 
quire in  process  of  time  a  tone  of  old-woman  quality, 
which  contrasts  strangely  with  tlicir  usually  robust  ap- 
pearance. On  this  occasion  we  did  not  conjecture 
whose  might  be  the  music  to  which  we  listened.  It 
had  a  mongrel  paternity,  and  hailed  from  no  noble  race 
of  compositions.  Having,  however,  our  comfortable 
chairs,  and  being  out  of  the  murderous  direct  rever- 
beration of  the  organ,  we  sat  and  saw  as  outsiders  the 
flux  and  reflux  of  life  which  passed  through  the  chiuxh. 
It  was  obviously,  this  morning,  a  place  of  fashionable 
resort ;  and  many  were  the  good  dresses  and  comforta- 
ble family  groups  that  first  appgared,  and  ihen  were 
absorbed  among  its  crowded  chairs  and  their  occupants. 
The  well-dressed  people  were  mostly,  I  thought,  of 
medio  ccto^  —  middling  class,  —  which  in  Rome  is  a 
term    of  strict   reprobation,   antl    answers   to   what   we 


SUNDAYS   IN    ROJIE.  73 

used  to  call  Bowery  in  New  York.  Their  devotion  had 
mostly  a  business-like  aspect.  They  hired  their  chair, 
brought  it,  sat  down,  made  their  crosses  and  courtesies, 
accompanied  the  priest  with  their  books,  went  down  on 
their  knees  at  the  elevation  of  the  host,  had  benediction, 
and  went.  INIass  was  taking  place  at  various  side  altars, 
and  people  were  coming  and  going,  as  their  devotions 
were  past  or  future.  Dirty  and  shabby  figures  mingled 
with  the  others ;  a  group  of  little  children  from  the 
street,  holding  each  other  b}'  the  hand  ;  a  crippled  old 
woman,  hobbling  on  two  crutches,  who,  wonderfully, 
did  not  beg,  of  us  at  least ;  an  elderly  dwarf,  of  com- 
posed aspect,  some  thirty-eight  inches  high,  who  took  a 
chair,  but  could  not  get  into  it,  so  squatted  down  beside 
it,  and  stared  at  us.  A  loud  bell  was  rung,  and  one  in 
yellow  satin  bore  an  object  under  yellow  satin  across 
the  church.  This  was  the  sacrament,  going  to  one  of 
the  altars  for  the  beginning  of  the  mass.  Having  mused 
sufficiently  on  the  music  and  on  the  crowd,  we  desired 
to  hear  a  Puritan  sermon,  and,  there  being  none  to  be 
had,  we  went  away. 

Away  to  the  Farnesina  Palace,  lovely  with  Raphael's 
frescos  of  Galatea  and  the  story  of  Psyche,  with  Mi- 
chael Angelo's  grim  charcoal  head  looming  in  the  dis- 
tance, The  Psyche  series  has  suffered  much  by  resto- 
rations;  and  though  the  gracious  outline  and  designs 
remain,  the  coloring,  one  thinks,  is  far  other  than  that 
of  the  master.  The  Galatea  has  faded  less,  and  has 
been  less  restored.  The  lovely  Sodoma  fresco  up  stairs 
—  the  family  of  Darius  —  was  undergoing  repairs,  and 


74  FROM    TIIK    OAK    TO    TIIK    OI.IVK. 

could  not  be  seen.  The  palace  belongs  to  the  cx-king 
of  Naples.  It  was  formerly  visible  at  all  times,  but 
may  now  be  seen  only  on  Sunday.  He  himself  now 
lives  in  Rome,  and  perhaps  chooses  to  ti"ead  its  banquet 
halls  deserted,  which  possibly  accounts  for  the  present 
restriction.  In  the  afternoon  we  were  bidden  to  sec  the 
embalmed  remains  of  an  ancient  pontiff,  —  Pius  V., — 
who  should  be  happy  to  make  himself  useful  to  Catho- 
lic institutions  at  a  period  so  remote  from  the  intentions 
of  Nature.  The  old  body  is  shown  in  a  glass  case, 
upon  an  altar  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore.  lie  lies  on 
his  side,  his  darkened  face  adorned  by  a  new  white 
beard  composed  of  lamb's  wool.  His  hands  arc  con- 
cealed by  muslin  gloves ;  his  garments  arc  white,  and 
he  wears  a  brilliant  mitre.  And  the  devout  crowd  the 
church  to  touch  and  kiss  the  glass  case  in  which  he 
resides.  There  is,  moreover,  a  procession  of  the  cruci- 
fix, and  vespers  are  sung  in  pleasing  style  by  a  tolerable 
choir  ;  and  many  pauls  and  bajocs  are  dropped  hither 
and  thither  in  pious  receptacles  by  the  pious  in  heart. 
So,  I  repeat  it,  the  mummied  pope,  sainted  also,  is  of 

use. 

Catacombs. 

Of  all  that  befell  us  in  the  catacombs  we  may  not 
tell.  We  betook  ourselves  to  the  neighborhood  of  St. 
Calixtus  one  afterno(jn.  A  noted  ecclesiastic  of  the 
Romish  church  soon  joined  our  party,  with  various  of 
our  countrymen  and  countrywomen.  He  wore  a  white 
woollen  gown  and  a  black  hat.  Before  descending, 
lie  ranged  us  in  a  circle,  and  harangued  us  much  as 
follows  :  — 


CATACOMBS.  75 

"  You  will  ask  me  the  meaning  of  the  word  '  cata- 
comb,' and  I  shall  tell  you  that  it  is  derived  from  two 
Greek  words  —  cata,  hidden,  and  ciduba^  \.o\T^i.  You 
have  doubtless  heard  that  the  whole  city  of  Rome  is 
undermined  with  catacombs  ;  but  this  is  not  true.  The 
American  Encyclopaedia  says  this.  I  have  read  the  arti- 
cle. But  intramural  burials  wei'e  not  allowed  in  Rome  ; 
therefore  the  catacombs  commence  outside  the  walls. 
They  are,  moreover,  limited  to  an  irregular  extent  of 
some  three  miles.  Why  is  this?  It  is  because  they 
were  possible  only  in  the  tufa  formation.  Why  only  in 
the  tufa?  Because  it  cuts  easily  and  crumbles  easily, 
hardening  afterwards.  And  as  the  burials  of  the  Chris- 
tians were  necessarily  concealed,  it  was  important  for 
them  to  deal  with  a  material  easily  worked  and  easily 
disposed  of.  The  solid  contents  of  the  catacombs  of 
Rome  could  be  included  within  a  square  mile  ;  their 
series,  if  arranged  at  full  length,  would  not  measure  less 
than  five  hundred  miles.  In  some  places  there  are  no 
less  than  seven  strata  of  tombs,  one  below  the  other." 
All  of  this,  with  more  repetitions  than  I  can  possibly 
signif}',  was  delivered  under  the  cogent  stimulus  of  a 
roasting  afternoon  sun  of  the  full  Roman  power.  Being 
quite  calcined  as  to  the  head  and  shoulders,  we  some- 
what thankfully  undertook  the  descent.  The  extreme 
contrast,  however,  between  the  outer  heat  and  the  inner 
chill  and  damp,  proved  an  unwelcome  alternative  to 
most  of  us.  Had  we  been  allowed  a  somewhat  brisk 
motion,  we  should  have  dreaded  less  its  effects.  But 
Father fought  his  ground   inch  by  inch,  and  con- 


76  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    TI[E    OLIVE. 

tinned  to  cany  on  a  stringent  controversy  with  imagi- 
nary antagonists.  Wc  will  not  endeavor  to  transcribe 
the  catechism,  at  once  tedious  and  aimising,  \vith  which 
he  held  captive  a  dozen  of  Yankees  prepared  to  sell 
their  lives  dearly,  bnt  imcertain  how  to  deal  with  his 
mode  of  warfare.  lie  kept  iis  long  in  the  crypt  of  the 
pontifls,  where  are  fonnd  two  fragments  of  marble  tab- 
lets bearing  names  in  mingled  Latin  and  Greek  charac- 
ter. One  inscription  records,  '•'■  Aftteros  episcopus." 
The  other  is  of  another  name — '■'■  cpiscopzis  et  martyr.*'' 
The  father  now  led  ns  into  a  narrow  crypt,  where  his 
stout  form  wedged  us  all  as  closely  as  possible  together. 
He  show'ed  ns  on  the  walls  two  time-worn  frescos,  one 
of  which — Jonah  and  the  whale  —  represented  the  resur- 
rection, while  the  other  depicted  tliat  farewell  ban- 
quet at  Emmaus  in  which  Peter  received  the  thrice- 
repeated  charge,  "Feed  my  sheep."  To  this  symbolical 
expression  the  father  added  one  later  and  more  puz- 
zling. The  fish  which  appeared  in  one  of  the  dishes 
represented,  he  told  us,  the  anagram  of  Christ  in  the 
Greek  language  —  icthus^  the  fish,  ycsus  Christos  thcos 
—  I  forget  the  rest.  The  fish  was  the  oidy  hint  of 
the  presence  of  Christ  on  this  occasion,  antl  its  signifi- 
cance could  be  apprehended  only  with  this  explana- 
tion. These  pictures,  he  insisted,  sufiiciently  showed 
us  that  the  early  Christians  had  religious  images — a 
point  of  great  authority  and  significance  in  the  Catholic 
church,  for  us  how  easily  disposed  of!  The  pictures 
and  the  symbolism  of  the  jirimitive  church  are  both 
alike  features  of  its  lime.     In  periods  when  culture  is 


CATACOMBS.  77 

rare  and  limited,  the  picture  and  the  parable  have  their 
indispensable  office.  The  one  preserves  and  presents 
to  the  eye  much  that  would  otherwise  be  overlooked 
and  forgotten  ;  the  other  presents  to  the  mind  that  which 
could  not  otherwise  be  apprehended.  The  painted 
Christs,  Madonnas,  and  so  on,  were  in  their  time  a  gos- 
pel to  the  common  people.  Even  in  Raphael's  period, 
even  in  the  Italy  of  to-day,  how  few  of  the  populace  at 
large  are  able  to  save  their  souls  by  reading  the  New 
Testament !  The  paintings  undoubtedly  answered  a 
useful  purpose,  as  all  men  must  acknowledge ;  but  the 
Catholic  system,  carried  out  in  its  completeness,  would 
give  a  melancholy  perpetuity  to  the  class  of  people  who 
cannot  read  otherwise  than  in  pictures.  Even  where  it 
teaches  to  read,  it  withholds  the  power  of  interpreta- 
tion. Pi'otestantism  means  direct  and  general  instruc- 
tion. It  gives  to  the  symbolism  of  the  Bible  its  plainest 
and  most  practical  interpretation,  without  building  upon 
it  a  labyrinth  of  types  whose  threading  asks  the  study 
of  a  lifetime. 

The  fear  and  danger  of  early  times  had,  no  doubt, 
much  to  do  with  the  growth  of  symbolism,  both  in  pic- 
tures and  in  language.  The  intercourse  of  the  early 
Christians  w'as  limited  and  insecure.  It  was  guarded 
b}-  watchwords.  Its  bodily  presence  took  refuge  in 
pits  and  caves.  Its  thought  buried  itself  in  similitudes 
and  allusions.  But  now^,  when  Christianity  has  become 
the  paramount  demand  of  the  world,  this  obscurity  is 
no  longer  needed  nor  legitimate. 

The  parables  of  Christ  may  be  supposed  to  have  had 


78  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

a  double  object.  The  most  usually  recognized  is  that 
of  popular  instruction,  in  the  iorni  best  suited  to  the 
comprehension  of  his  hearers.  iSlany  of  his  sayings, 
however,  point  to  another  meaning;  viz.,  the  discrimi- 
nation between  those  who  were  litted  to  receive  his  doc- 
trine, and  those  who  were  not.  How  many,  among  the 
multitudes  who  heard  him,  can  we  suppose  to  have  l»ecn 
anxious  about  the  moral  lessons  intended  by  his  illustri- 
ous fables?  Few  indeed;  and  those  few  alone  would 
be  able  to  understand  his  teaching,  and,  in  turn,  to 
teach  according  to  his  method.  So  he  represents  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  wliicli  he  preached  as  a  net  thrown 
into  the  sea.  His  sermons  were  such  castings  of  tiie 
net ;  he  made  his  disciples  fishers  of  men.  The  Chris- 
tian church,  like  the  Jewish,  rapidly  degenerated  into  a 
tissue  of  legends  and  observances  —  at  ib'st  representa- 
tive of  morality,  soon  cumbrous,  finally  inimical  to  it. 
All  this  time,  however,  we   are   standing  wedged   by 

Father    in    a    narrow    compass,    ami,    while    the 

thought  of  one  undertakes  this  long,  swift  retrospect,  the 
temper  of  the  others  becomes  irritated  —  not  without 
reason.  So  we  insist  up(ju  l)reaking  out  of  the  small 
quadrangle,  and  are  led  into  the  cr\pt  in  which  were 
found  the  remains  of  vSt.  Cecilia.  Here  tradition  again 
holds  a  long  parley  witii  the  representatives  of  modern 
thought.  St.  Cecilia,  a  noble  Roman  lady,  was  be- 
headed, but  survived  the  stroke  of  the  executioner  three 
days,  which  she  occupied  in  describing  and  explaining 
the  doctrine  of  the  trinity.  (This,  therefore,  is  the  doc- 
trine  of  those    who    have   lost    their    head.)     For  this 


CATACOMBS. 


79 


purpose  she  employed   two   fingers   of   the  right  hand 
and  one   of  the  left.     All  of  this  passes  without  contro- 
versy.    Her   body   was  found   lying  on   its  face,  in  an 
attitude  perpetuated  by  the  well-known   statue   in    the 
church  in  Trastevere.     But  in   this   crypt  are  the   relics 
of  an  altar,  erected  over  the   remains   of  another   saint. 
The  early  Christian  altars,  our  guide  says,  were  always 
erected  above  the  burial-place  of  some  saint.     Hence,  no 
Catholic  church  is  allowed  to  dispense  with  the  presence 
of  consecrated  bones.     Other  graves,  moreover,  cluster 
around  that  which  is  supposed  to  have  consecrated  this 
altar:   sums   of  money  were  paid  for  the  privilege   of 
Jnterment  in   this  proximity.      This   clearly  shows  the 
early  Christians  to  have  supposed  that  the  saint  himself 
had  the  power  to   benefit  them,  and  the  right  of  inter- 
cession.      This    we    concede    as    quite    possible ;    but 
does  this  go,  to   show,  O  father,  that  the   saint  had  any 
such  power  ?     Let  us  go  back  after  this  fashion  in  other 
things.     Fingers   were    made  before  knives  and  forks, 
skins  were   worn  before  tissues,  and   nakedness  is  of 
earlier    authority  than    either.     A   predatory    existence 
has  older  precedent  than  agriculture  or  commerce.     Let 
us  go  backward  like  a  crab,  if  you   will,  but  let  us  be 
consistent. 

In  another  crypt  we  are  shown  two  marble  sarcoph- 
agi, well  carved,  in  each  of  which  lies  a  mouldering 
human  figure  once  embalmed,  and  now  black,  without 
features,  and  with  only  a  dim  outline  of  form.  Else- 
where we  are  shown  a  large  marble  slab  handsomely 
engraved,  with  the  record  of  a  Christian  martyr  on  one 


8o  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THK    OLIVIi. 

side,  and  with  an  inscription  concerning  the  Emperor 
Hadrian  on  the  other,  presenting  the  economic  expe- 
dient of  a  second-hand  tombstone.  We  passed  also 
through  various  dark  galleries,  and  down  one  staircase. 
Some  chambers  of  the  catacomb  had  a  himbiariiun^  or 
light  from  the  top  ;  many  of  them  were  entirely  dark. 
Father  's  style  of  exj^lanation  threatening  to  pro- 
long itself  till  midnight,  impatience  became  general,  and 
one  of  our  party  ventured  a  remonstrance,  which  was 
made  and  met  something  after  the  following  fashion  ;  — 

Mr.  F.  Hem  —  hem!  Sir,  I  am  old  and  infirm, 
anil  — 

Father .      O,  sir,  ask    any  questions  you    like., 

The  more  you  ask,  the  better  I  can  explain  myself. 
(Repeated  over  some  three  times.) 

Mr.  F.  But,  sir,  I  do  not  wish  to  ask  any  questions. 
I  only  wish  — 

Father .     Don't  make  any  excuses,  sir.     I  shall 

be  very  glad  to  have  you  ask  any  questions.  I  am  very 
ready  to  answer  and  explain  everything.  (Several 
repetitions.) 

After  a  number  of  ellbrts,  the  senior  member  of  the 
party  at  length  obtained  the  floor,  and  succeeded  in 
expressing  himself  to  the  eflbct  that  he  feared  to  take 
death  of  cold  in  the  catacomb,  and  would  gladly  be 
piloted  out  by   the  connnonplace  youth   who  followed 

Father  as  attendant,  without  views  of  any   kind, 

except  as  to  a  possible  buo)ia  niano.  This  suggestion  of 
the  elder  met  with  so  hearty  a  response  from  the  re- 
mainder of  the  party  as  to  bring  the  present  exploration 


VIA    APPIA    AND    THE    COLUMBARIA.  8l 

to  an  end,  and  Father and  his  public  simultaneously 

dispersed  to  carriages  and  horses.  In  view  of  the  whole 
expedition,  I  would  advise  people  in  general  to  read 
up  on  the  subject  of  the  catacombs,  but  not  to  visit  them 
in  company  with  one  intent  on  developing  theories  of 
any  kind.  The  underground  chill  is  unwholesome  in 
warm  weather,  and  a  conversion  made  in  these  dark 
galleries  and  windings  would  be  much  akin  to  baptism 
at  the  sword's  point.  Meet,  therefore,  the  theorist 
above  ground,  and  on  equal  terms  ;  and  for  the  subter- 
raneous proceeding,  elect  the  society  of  swift  and 
prosaic  silence. 

Via  Appia  and  the  Columbaria. 

Since  my  last  visit  to  Rome,  more  progress  has  been 
made  under  ground  than  above  it.  Rome  is  the  true 
antipodes  of  America.  Our  business  is  to  build  —  her 
business  is  to  excavate.  The  tombs  on  Via  Appia 
are  among  the  interesting  objects  which  the  spade 
and  mattock,  during  the  last  seventeen  years,  have 
brought  to  view.  I  remember  well  the  beginning  of 
this  work,  and  the  marble  tombs  and  sarcophagi  which 
it  brought  to  light.  I  also  remember,  in  those  uncon- 
scientious days,  a  marble  head,  in  exceedingly  flat 
relief,  which  was  desired  by  me,  and  stolen  for  me  by 
the  faithful  servant  of  a  friend.  At  the  commencement 
of  the  diggings,  we  descended  from  our  carriage,  and 
easily  walked  to  the  end  of  the  way  then  opened.  Via 
Appia  now  afibrds  a  long  drive,  set  with  tombs  on  either 
side.  Many  of  these  are  in  brick,  and  of  large  dimen- 
6 


82  FROM    TIIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

sions.     Most  of  the  marbles  have,    however,  been  re- 
moved to  the  Museum  of  the  Vatican. 

On  this  road,  if  I  mistake  not,  are  the  iwo  col u  11/ l)aria 
discovered  and  excavated  some  seven  years  ago.  They 
stand  in  a  vineyard,  which  I  saw  in  its  spring  bloom.  The 
proprietor,  a  civil  man,  answers  the  little  bell  at  the  gate, 
and  taking  down  a  bunch  of  keys,  unlocks  for  you  the  door 
of  the  small  building  erected  over  the  vault.  The  original 
roof  has  fallen.  All  else  looks  as  if  it  might  have  been 
used  the  day  before  for  burial.  The  descent  is  by  a 
steep,  narrow  stairway,  of  at  least  thiity  steps,  each  of 
which  is  paved  with  a  single  lamina  of  coarse  brick. 
The  walls  are  honeycombed  with  small  parallelogram- 
matic  niches,  in  each  of  which  was  set  a  funeral  vase  or 
box.  Over  some  of  these  places  are  such  inscriptions 
as,  '■'-Non  tangite  vcstes  mortalesT  "  \c7icrare  dcos 
manes."  There  arc  many  names,  of  which  I  have 
preserved  but  one,  "  Castus  Ge>'7)iauiciis  Cccsaris." 
This  cobunbarluju  belonged  to  the  Flavian  family.  It 
has  about  it  an  indescribable  gloom,  like  that  of  a  family 
vault  in  our  own  time,  but,  it  must  be  confessed,  more 
aesthetic.  One  felt  the  bitter  partings  that  death  had  made 
here,  the  tears,  the  unavailing  desire  to  heap  all  the  remain- 
ing goods  of  life  upon  the  altar  of  departed  friendship. 
Time  healed  these  wounds  then,  no  doubt,  as  he  does 
to-dav.  The  tears  were  dried,  the  goods  enjoyed  again  ; 
but,  wliilc  Christianity  has  certainly  lightened  the  dead 
weight  of  such  sorrows,  the  anguish  of  the  first  blow 
remains  what  it  was  all  those  dim  centuries  ago.  A 
glance  into  the  columbariu7n  makes  you  feel  this. 


VIA   APPIA   AND    THE    COLUMBARIA.  S3 

The  second  cohuiibarium  is  much  like  the  first,  except- 
ing that  the  stair  is  not  so  well  preserved.  On  emerging, 
the  proprietor  invited  us  to  visit  an  upper  room  in  his 
own  house,  in  which  were  a  number  of  objects,  taken, 
he  averred,  from  the  two  cohanbaria.  These  were 
mostly  vases,  tear-bottles,  and  engraved  gems.  But  I 
doubted  their  genuineness  too  much  to  inake  any  pur- 
chases from  among  them.  The  trade  in  antiquities  is 
too  cheap  and  easy  a  thing  in  Italy  to  allow  faith  in 
unattested  relics. 

Not  very  far  beyond  the  cohimbaria  stand  the  cata- 
combs of  the  ancient  Hebrews,  much  resembling  in  gen- 
eral arrangement  those  of  the  Christians.  We  found  in 
several  places  the  image  of  the  seven-branched  candle- 
stick impressed  upon  the  tufa.  In  one  of  the  rooms 
were  some  remains  of  fresco.  At  each  of  its  corners 
was  painted  a  date-palm  with  its  fruit.  In  two  other 
rooms  the  frescos  were  in  good  preservation.  Some  of 
the  graves  were  sunk  in  the  earth,  the  head  and  feet  at 
right  angles  with  the  others.  We  were  shown  the  graves 
of  two  masters  of  synagogues.  The  frescos  are  not 
unlike  those  in  the  Christian  and  pagan  tombs,  though 
as  I  remember  them,  the  Christian  paintings  are  the 
rudest  of  all,  as  respects  artistic  merit. 

The  subjects  were  usually  genii,  peacocks,  the 
cock,  fruits,  garlands,  the  latter  sometimes  painted 
from  end  to  end  of  the  wall.  vSome  of  the  small 
tombs  were  still  sealed  with  a  marble  slab.  An 
entire  skeleton  was  here  shown  us,  and  a  number  of 
sarcophagi.     Of  these,  one  was  sunk   into  the  ground, 


84  FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

and  several  graves  were  grouped  around  it,  much  after 
the  fashion  of  those  in  the  Christian  catacombs,  from 
which  Dr.  Smith  inferred  so  hugely,  both  concerning 
the  sanctity  of  tlie  saint's  body  and  the  post-mortem 
power  of  the  saint. 

We  were  taken  also  to  see  some  interesting  tombs  in 
the  Via  Latina.  These  were  recently  brought  to  light 
from  their  long  concealment  in  a  tract  of  the  Campagna, 
belonging  to  the  Barberini  family.  Descending  a  flight 
of  stone  steps,  the  custode  admitted  us  into  two  fine 
vaulted  chambers,  decorated  each  after  its  own  manner. 
The  ceiling  of  the  first  was  adorned  with  miniature  bas- 
reliefs  in  stucco.  The  small  figures,  beautifully  mod- 
elled, were  enclosed  in  alternate  squares  and  octagons. 
The  designs  were  exhibitions  of  genii,  griffins,  and  of 
centaurs,  bearing  female  figures  on  their  backs.  The 
sculptured  sarcophagi  found  in  this  tomb  were  removed 
to  the  Lateran  Museum. 

In  the  second  tomb  the  walls  and  ceilings  were 
adorned  with  miniature  frescos,  also  enclosed  in  small 
compartments.  ]Many  of  these  represented  landscapes, 
sometimes  including  a  water  view,  with  boats.  These 
were  rather  faint  in  style,  but  very  good.  Peacocks, 
also,  were  frequent ;  and  in  one  compartment  was  paint- 
ed a  glass  dessert  vase,  with  the  fruit  showing  through 
its  transparency.  This  design  amazed  us,  both  as  to  its 
subject  and  execution.  Some  panels  in  this  tomb  bore 
stucco  reliefs  on  grounds  of  brilliant  red  and  blue.  In 
its  centre  was  found  hanging  a  fine  bronze  lamp,  which 
is  now  at  the  Barberini  Palace.     A  large  sarcophagus 


VIA   APPIA   AND   THE   COLUMBARIA.  85 

of  stone  still  remains  here,  nearly  entire,  with  a  pointed 
lid.  On  look'ing  through  a  small  break  in  one  side  of 
it,  we  perceived  two  skeletons,  lying  side  by  side,  sup- 
posed, the  custode  told  us,  to  have  been  husband  and 
wife.  These  tombs  certainly  belong  to  a  period  other 
than  that  of  the  cohunbaria  before  described.  The 
presence  of  sarcophagi,  and  of  these  skeletons,  attests 
the  burial  of  the  dead  in  accordance  with  the  usage  of 
modern  society,  while  the  great  elegance  and  finish  of 
the  ornamentation  point  to  a  time  of  wealth  and  luxury. 
I  have  heard  no  conjecture  as  to  the  original  proprietor- 
ship of  these  tombs.  They  contain  no  military  or  civil 
emblems,  and  probably  belonged  to  wealthy  contractors 
or  merchants.  That  day,  no  doubt,  had  its  shoddy,  and 
of  the  tricks  practised  upon  the  government  one  may 
read  some  account  in  Titus  Livy,  who,  to  be  sure,  wrote 
of  an  earlier  time,  but  not  a  more  vicious  one. 

Rome  now  boasts  an  archaiological  society,  not  indeed 
of  Romans,  but  composed  of  foreign  residents,  mostly 
of  British  origin.  The  well-known  artist  Shakspear 
Wood  is  one  of  its  most  energetic  members.  At  his  in- 
vitation I  attended  a  lecture  given  by  Air.  Charles  He- 
mans,  on  the  subject  of  the  ancient  churches  and  mosaics 
of  the  city.  Complementary  to  this  lecture  was  an  expe- 
dition of  the  society  to  several  of  these  churches,  which 
I  very  gladly  joined.  Our  first  and  principal  object  of 
interest  was  the  old  Church  of  San  Clementi,  a  building 
dating  from  the  eleventh  or  twelfth  century.  Here  Mr. 
Hemans  first  led  us  to  observe  an  ancient  fresco  in  the 
apsis,  which  represents  the  twelve  apostles  in  the  guise 


86  FROM    Tllli    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

of  twelve  lambs,  a  thirteenth  lamb,  in  the  middle  of  the 
row,  and  crowned  with  a  nimbus,  representing  Christ. 
Here  we  saw  also  an  ancient  marble  chair,  a  marlile 
altar  screen,  and  a  pavement  in  the  ribbon  mosaic,  of 
which  archaiologues  have  so  much  to  say.  This  mosaic 
is  so  named  from  the  strips  of  colored  stones  which  form 
its  various  patterns  on  the  white  marble  of  the  pave- 
ment. 

The  church  itself,  however,  occupied  us  but  briefly. 
Beneath  the  church  has  recently  been  discovered  and 
excavated  a  very  extensive  basilica,  of  a  date  far  more 
ancient.  This  crypt  was  now  lighted  for  us.  Its  origi- 
nal proportions  arc  marred  by  walls  of  masonry  built 
between  its  long  rows  of  columns,  and  essential  to  the 
support  of  the  church  above.  These  walls  are  adorned 
by  curious  paintings  of  saints,  popes,  martyrs,  and  mira- 
cles. Among  them  is  a  very  rude  crucifixion  ;  also  a 
picture  of  Christ  giving  benediction  after  the  fashion 
of  the  Greek  church,  and  of  a  pontiff  in  the  same  act. 
Upon  these  things  Mr.  Ilcmans  made  many  interesting 
comments.  From  the  crypt  we  descended  yet  farther 
into  a  house  supposed  to  date  back  at  least  to  the  em- 
pire, if  not  to  the  republic.  It  is  a  small  but  heavily- 
built  enclosure,  of  two  ciiambers,  and  contains  a 
curious  bas-relief  in  marble,  representing  a  pagan 
sacrifice.  In  tiie  narrow  descent  that  led  to  it  Mr.  Wood 
showed  me  in  three  consecutive  strata  tlie  tufa  of  the 
time  of  the  kingdom,  travertine  of  the  republic,  and 
brick  of  the  empire. 

The  presence  of  the  ancient  basilica  below  the  ancient 


VIA    APPIA    AND    THE    COLUMBARIA.  87 

church  was  suggested  to  one  of  the  priests  of  the  latter 
by  the  presence  of  a  capital,  rising  just  above  the  pave- 
ment of  the  church,  and  not  accounted  for  by  any  cir- 
cumstance in  its  architecture.  This  capital  belonged  to 
one  of  the  columns  of  tlie  basilica  ;  but  before  so  much 
could  be  ascertained,  a  long  and  laborious  series  of  ex- 
cavations had  to  be  instituted.     Father ,  the   priest 

who  first  conjectured  of  the  presence  of  this  under 
building,  has  been  indefatigable  in  following  up  the 
hint  given  by  the  capital,  which  he  alone,  in  a  succes- 
sion of  centuries,  was  clever  enough  to  interpret.  Most 
of  the  expense  of  this  work  has  been  borne  by  him. 

From  San  Clementi  the  worshipful  society  went  to  the 
church  of  Santi  Qiiattro.  The  object  of  interest  here  was 
a  small  chapel  filled  with  curious  old  frescos,  one  series 
of  which  represents  the  conversion  of  Constantine.  We 
see  first  depicted  a  dream,  in  which  Sts.  Peter  and  Paul 
appear  to  Constantine,  warning  him  to  desist  from  the 
murder  of  innocent  children,  whose  blood  was  supposed 
to  be  a  cure  for  his  leprosy.  Not  disobedient  to  the 
heavenly  vision,  Constantine  relinquishes  the  blood-bath, 
and  releases  the  children.  He  sends  for  St.  Sylvester, 
the  happy  possessor  of  an  authentic  portrait  of  the  two 
apostles.  The  fresco  shows  us  Sylvester  responding  to 
this  summons,  and  bringing  in  his  hand  the  portrait, 
which  the  emperor  immediately  recognizes.  Farther  on 
we  see  Sylvester  riding  in  papal  triumph,  the  emperor 
leading  his  palfrey  —  a  haughty  device  for  those  days. 
Another  fresco  records  the  finding  of  the  true  cross  by 
St.  Helena.     Coming  at  one  time  upon  the  three  crosses 


S8  FROM    TlIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

she  applied  each  of  them  in  succession  to  the  body  of  a 
dying  person,  who  was  healed  at  once  by  the  contact  of 
the  true  one. 

The  archa:;ological  society  also  explores  the  interesting 
neighborhoods  of  Rome,  the  villas  of  emperors,  states- 
men, and  poets.  Thus  life  springs  out  from  decay,  and 
the  crumbling  relics  of  the  past  incite  new  activities  in 
minds  that  cling,  like  the  ivy,  about  relics  and  ruins. 
This  society,  ancient  as  are  the  facts  about  which  it 
occupies  itself,  seemed  to  me  one  of  the  most  modern 
features  of  Rome,  especially  as  it  travels  by  rail,  and 
carries  its  luncheon  with  it.  I  was  not  fortunate  enough 
to  join  its  visits  to  the  environs  of  the  Eternal  City,  but 
I  wish  that  on  one  of  its  excursions  it  would  take  with 
it  the  oldest  nuisance  of  modern  society,  and  forget  to 
bring  it  back.  There  is  room  enough  outside  of  Rome 
for  that  which,  shut  within  its  w'ulls,  crowds  out  every 
new  impulse  of  life  and  progress.  No  harm  to  the  old 
man  ;  no  violence  to  his  representative  immunity  ;  only 
let  him  remember  that  the  world  has  room  for  him,  and 
that  Rome  has  not. 

Naples — The  Jourxev. 

From  these  brief,  sombre  notes  of  Rome,  we  slide  at 
once  to  Naples  and  her  brilliant  surroundings.  Here, 
taking  the  seven  colors  as  the  equivalents  of  the  seven 
notes,  we  are  at  the  upper  cud  of  the  octave  of  color. 
Rome  is  painted  in  piuple,  gold,  olive,  and  bistre — its 
shadows  all  in  the  latter  pigment.  Naples  is  clear  red, 
white,  and  yellow.     Orange  tawny  is  its  deepest  shade. 


NAPLES THE   JOURNEV.  89 

The  sounds  of  Rome  awaken  memories  of  devotion. 
They  call  to  prayer,  although  the  forms  now  be  empty, 
and  the  religious  spirit  resident  elsewhere.  The  voice 
of  Naples  trills,  shrieks,  scolds,  mingling  laughter,  wail, 
and  entreaty,  in  a  new  and  confused  symphony.  Lit- 
tle piano-fortes,  played  like  a  barrel  organ,  go  about 
the  streets,  giving  a  pulse  to  the  quick  rhythm  of  life. 
The  common  people  are  pictures,  the  aristocracy  carica- 
tures. When  you  rise  above  low  life,  Italian  taste  is  too 
splendid  for  good  effects  in  costume.  The  most  ill-married 
colors,  the  most  ill-assorted  ornaments,  deform  the  pale 
olive  faces,  and  contradict  the  dignity  of  the  dark  eyes 
and  massive  hair.  This  is  somewhat  the  case  in  Rome, 
much  more  in  Naples.  The  continual  crescendo  of 
glare,  as  you  go  southward,  points  to  the  African  crisis 
of  orange  and  crimson,  after  which  the  negro  naked- 
ness presents  an  enforced  pause,  saying,  "  I  can  no 
more." 

This  land  is  the  antipodes  of  the  Puritan  country. 
There  all  is  concentration,  inward  energy,  interior. 
Here  all  is  external  glow  and  glitter.  If  there  be  any 
interior,  it  can  only  belong  to  one  of  these  three  —  pas- 
sion, superstition,  avarice.  Every  one  who  deals  with 
you  speculates  upon  your  credulity.  *■'  Will  you  give 
four  times  the  value  of  a  thing,  or  five,  or  only  twice?  " 
is  the  question  which  the  seller's  eyes  put  to  the  buyer, 
however  the  tongue  of  the  one  may  respond  to  that  of 
the  other.  And  here  is  a  sad  deforming  of  the  Scripture 
parable ;  and  he  who  has  five  in  value  gets  ten  in  money 
for  it,  he  who  has  three  gets  six,  while  the  one  talent,  hon- 


9©  rUOM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

esty,  —  the  fundamental  gift  of  God  to  man,  —  is  indeed 
igiiominiously  bui'ied  in  a  dirty  napkin,  and  laid  nobody 
knows  where.  And  while  New  England  energy  is  a 
hundred-armed  giant  that  labors,  Italian  sloth  is  a  hun- 
dred-handed lazzaro  that  begs.  If  this  is  the  result  of 
the  loveliest  climate,  the  most  brilliant  nature,  give  me 
our  snow  and  ice,  ay,  the  east  wind  and  all. 

The  journey  from  Rome  to  Naples  at  this  season  is  hot, 
oppressive.  Railway  carriages,  even  as  administered  in 
Europe,  make  you  acquainted  with  strange  way-fellows. 
We  chance  upon  a  Neapolitan  prince,  with  an  English 
wife,  returning  to  his  own  country  and  possessions  after 
an  absence  of  six  years,  the  time  elapsed  since  the  inau- 
guration of  the  new  rule.  He  obviously  regrets  the 
changes  over  which  the  rest  of  the  civilized  world  re- 
joices. In  person,  however,  he  and  his  partner  are  simple 
and  courteous.  Our  car  confines  also  a  female  nonde- 
script carrying  a  dog,  herself  quite  decently  got  up,  but 
with  an  extraordinar}'  smile,  that  is  either  lunatic  or  wick- 
ed, we  cannot  determine  which.  A  certain  steadinessand 
self-possession  incline  us  to  the  latter  theory,  but  we  hold 
it  subject  to  correction  at  a  later  day.  She  is  obviously 
of  Irish  or  low  English  extraction,  and  may  be  anything, 
from  a  discarded  lad}'s  maid  to  a  reigning  mistress.  As 
we  approach  Naples,  our  princely  friend  begins  to  take 
notice.  Here  is  Caserta,  here  its  battle-Held,  where  poor 
Francesco  would  certainly  have  had  tiie  victory,  had  not 
the  French  and  Piedmontese  interfered.  '"'•Oh  Richard^ 
oh  vion  Roil"  But  we  remember  another  saying: 
"And  I  tell  you,  if  these  had  held  their  peace,  the  very 


NAPLES  —  THE  JOURNEY.  9I 

Stones  would  have  cried  out."  Ay,  those  very  stones, 
volcanic  lava  and  tufa,  worn  by  the  chariot  wheels  of  the 
wicked,  from  Tiberius  to  Napoleon  and  after,  would 
have  sobbed,  "  Let  the  feet  of  the  messenger  of  peace, 
the  beautiful  feet,  at  last  pass  this  way  ! "  Arrived  at 
the  station,  no  warning  can  have  taught  you  what  to  ex- 
pect. It  costs  you  forty  cents  to  have  your  moderate 
effects  transported  from  the  cars  to  the  omnibus  of  the 
hotel,  —  this  not  through  any  system,  but  because  various 
people  meddle  with  them,  and  shriek  after  you  for  rec- 
ompense. At  the  Hotel  de  Rome,  you  are  shown  up 
many  stairs  into  a  dingy  little  room,  a  sort  of  spider's 
web.  This  will  not  do.  You  try  the  Hotel  de  Russie, 
opposite.  Here  you  are  forced  to  take  an  apartment 
much  too  fine  for  your  means  and  intentions.  The 
choice  being  this  or  none,  you  shut  your  eyes  upon 
consequences,  and  blindly  issue  orders  for  tea  and 
meats.  To-morrow  you  will  surely  get  a  cheaper  apart- 
ment.    But  to-morrow  you  do  not. 

The  hotel  book  looks  discouraging.  Names  of  your 
countrymen  are  in  it,  not  of  your  friends.  Better  re- 
main apart  than  run  the  risk  of  ungenial  society,  and 
enforced  fellowship.  But  the  dull  waters  soon  break 
into  the  sparkle  of  special  providences.  A  bright  little 
Briton,  with  a  mild  husband,  hospitably  makes  your  ac- 
quaintance. She  is  from  Ireland,  and  has  not  the  "  thor- 
ough-bred British  stare."  All  the  more  of  a  lady  do  we 
deem  and  find  her.  To  her  pleasant  company  is  soon 
added  that  of  an  American  of  the  sincere  kind.  He  ac- 
cepts us  without  fear  or  condition,  and  while  we  remain 


93  FROM    TIIK    OAK    TO     lllE    OLIVE. 

under  tlic  same  roof  with  hiin,  vvc  have  no  cause  to  com- 
plain for  want  of  s}'mpathy  or  of  countenance. 

The  Museum. 

In  the  ^Museum  wc  spend  two  laborious  days.  The 
first  wc  give  to  the  world-renowned  marbles,  fintling 
again  with  delight  our  favorites  of  twenty  }ears'  stand- 
ing. Prominent  among  these  are  the  Amore  Delfino, 
and  the  Faun  bearing  the  infant  Bacchus, 

The  Farnt'se  Bull  and  the  Farncse  Hercules  are  ad- 
mirable for  their  execution,  but  their  subject  has  no  spe- 
cial interest  for  us.  Wc  observe  the  Atlas,  the  Athletes, 
and  tlic  Venuscs,  one  of  whom  is  world-famous,  but  in- 
excusable. Here,  too,  is  the  quadriform  relic  of  the 
Psyche,  well  known  by  copies,  and  the  whole  Balbo  fam- 
ily on  horseback.  These  marble  knights  once  guarded 
tlie  Forum  of  Pompeii.  There  is  a  certain  melancholy 
in  their  present  aspect,  whether  of  fact  or  imagina- 
tion we  will  not  determine.  One  of  the  most  interest- 
ing objects,  from  the  vicissitudes  through  whicli  it  has 
l^assed,  is  the  statue  of  Caligula,  destroyed  by  the  people 
with  all  other  mementos  of  him  after  his  death,  the 
head  having  served,  even  in  motlern  times,  to  steady  the 
wheels  of  carriages  in  a  ferry  boat.  The  Naples  ^Muse- 
um docs  not  rival  the  Vatican  in  the  merit  of  its  nude 
marbles  ;  but  in  draped  statues  it  is  far  richer,  as  well 
as  in  statues  of  personal  historical  interest.  The  belief 
of  the  past  has  the  most  stately  illustration  in  Rome,  its 
life  the  most  vivid  record  in  Naples. 

^lany  new  treasures  have  been  atlded  to  the  collec- 


THE    MUSEUM.  93 

tion  during  these  years  of  our  absence.  Among  them 
are  some  exquisite  small  bronzes,  and  three  statuettes  in 
marble,  of  which  the  eyes  are  colored  blue,  and  the  hair 
of  a  reddish  tint.  One  of  them  is  very  pretty.  It  rep- 
resents the  seated  figure  of  a  little  boy,  and  almost 
reconciles  us  to  the  strictly  inadmissible  invasion  of 
color  into  the  abstract  domain  of  sculpture.  Each 
art  has,  indeed,  its  abstraction.  Sculpture  dispenses 
with  color,  painting  with  the  materiality  of  form. 
The  one  is  to  the  other  as  philosophy  to  poetry. 

From  the  marbles  we  flit  to  the  Pompeian  bronzes 
and  mosaics,  rich  in  number  and  in  interest.  Two  tab- 
lets in  mosaic  especially  detain  us,  from  their  represen- 
tation of  theatrical  subjects.  One  of  these  shows 
the  manager  surrounded  by  several  of  his  actors,  to 
whom  he  dispenses  the  various  implements  of  their  art. 
At  his  feet,  in  a  basket,  lie  the  comic  and  tragic  masks. 
Of  the  personages  around  him,  one  is  pulling  on  his 
garment,  another  is  trying  the  double  tubes  of  a  wind 
instrument.  The  second  mosaic  presents  a  group  of 
three  closely-draped  figures.  Actor  is  written  on  their 
faces,  though  we  know  not  the  scene  they  enact.  The 
bronzes  are  numerous  and  admirable.  JMinature  art 
seems  to  have  been  held  in  great  esteem  among  the  Pom- 
peians.  Most  of  these  figures  are  of  small  size,  and  sug- 
gest a  florid  and  detailed  style  of  adornment.  Among 
other  objects,  we  are  shown  the  semicircular  model  of 
a  Pompeian  bath,  on  which  are  arranged  the  ornaments 
and  water-fixtures  just  as  they  were  found.  One  of 
these  imitates  a  rampant  lion  standing  on  his  hind  legs, 


94  FROM    THE    OAK    TO   THE   OLIVE. 

and  delivering  water  from  liis  mouth  ;  another  a  serpent 
nearly  upright.  In  the  upper  story  of  the  Museum  we 
see  whole  rooms  floored  with  mosaic  pavements  re- 
moved entire  from  houses  in  Pompeii.  The  patterns  arc 
mostly  in  black  and  white,  but  of  an  endless  variety. 
The  contents  of  these  rooms  match  well  in  interest  witli 
their  pavements.  Here,  in  glass  cases,  are  carefully 
ranged  and  presented  the  tools  and  implements  of 
Pompeian  life  ;  the  loaves  that  never  left  the  baker's 
shop,  still  fresh  and  putly  in  outline,  although  calcined 
in  substance ;  the  jewels  and  silver  vessels  of  the 
wealthy,  the  painter's  colors,  the  workman's  needles 
and  thread  :  baths  and  braziers,  armor  in  bronze  and 
in  iron,  scarcely  more  barbaric  than  that  of  the  middle 
ages;  helmets,  with  clumsy  metal  network  guarding  the 
spaces  for  the  eyes  ;  spades,  cooking  utensils  in  great 
variety,  fruits  and  provisions  as  various.  Among  the 
bronze  utensils  is  a  pretty  and  economical  arrangement 
which  furnishes  at  once  hot  water,  a  fire  of  coals  to  heat 
the  room,  with  the  convenience  of  performing  at  the  same 
time  the  solemn  rites  of  cookery.  Hot  water,  both  for 
bathing  and  drinking,  seems  to  have  been  a  great  de- 
sideratimi  with  the  Pompcians.  The  stone  cameos  and 
engraved  gems  are  shown  in  rows  under  glass  cases. 
This  Museum  contains  a  well-known  tazza,  or  Hat  cup, 
of  onyx  entire,  claboiatcly  carved  in  cameo  on  either 
side.  It  also  possesses  a  vase  of  double  glass,  of  which 
the  outer  or  white  layer  has  been  cut,  like  a  cameo,  into 
the  most  delicate  and  elaborate  designs.  The  latter  is 
an  object  of  uni([uc  interest  and  value,  as   is  shown   by 


THE    MUSEUM.  95 

the  magnificence  witli  which  it  lias  been  mounted  on  a 
base  of  sohd  silver,  the  whole  being  placed  under 
glass. 

The  Cumaean  collection  is  less  rich  in  objects  of 
interest  than  the  Pompeian.  Its  treasures  are  mostly 
Etruscan.  It  possesses  man}^  vases,  Etruscan  and  Greek, 
mraiy  rude  Etruscan  sculptures,  with  household  articles 
of  various  descriptions.  It  occupies  a  separate  set  of 
rooms,  and  is  the  gift  of  the  Prince  of  Carignano. 

Among  the  Pompeian  remains  we  forgot  to  mention 
a  mosaic  tablet  representing  a  cock-fight.  One  cock 
already  bleeds  and  droops  ;  above  him  the  figure  of  his 
genius  turns  desponding  away.  The  genius  of  the  vic- 
torious cock,  on  the  contrary,  bears  a  crown  and  palm. 
The  design  is  worthy  of  the  Island  of  Cuba  at  the 
present  day. 

The  frescos  brought  and  transferred  from  Pompeii  are 
beautiful  and  interesting.  One  of  them  shows  thirteen 
dancing  figures,  all  of  which  are  frequently  copied. 
Many  inscriptions  in  marble  are  also  preserved,  but  to 
decipher  them  w^ould  ask  much  time.  We  were  inter- 
ested in  a  small  painted  model  of  a  Pompeian  dwelling, 
called  the  House  of  the  Poet.  It  shows  the  quadriform 
arrangement  of  the  dark  chambers  around  the  open 
courts,  of  which  one  is  the  atrltim^  one  the  perisfylhc?n. 
The  window-panes  of  the  house  of  Diomed  arc  shown,  — 
not  of  glass,  but  talc,  and  only  translucent.  Windows, 
however,  were  rare  in  Pompeii.  Perhaps  the  most 
pathetic  relic  that  we  observe  is  the  skull  of  the  senti- 
nel in  his  helmet,  as  it  was  found. 


96  FROM    THE   OAK    TO    THE    OLIV'E. 

Wc  have  here  given  only  the  most  hurried  and  im- 
perfect indication  of  the  mines  of  wealth  which  this 
institution  oilers  to  the  student  of  art  and  of  history.  x\ 
detailed  account  of  its  contents  will  be  found  in  the 
valuable  but  prosaic  IVIurray,  and  would  here  be  supcr- 
lluous.  Its  guardians,  the  custodi,  are  civil,  and  are 
not  allowed  to  ask  or  receive  any  compensation  from 
visitors.  Several  of  them,  nevertheless,  manage  to  sug- 
gest that  they  would  be  glad  to  wait  on  you  at  your  hotel, 
with  books,  objects  of  antiquity,  and  other  small  merchan- 
dise, which  you  hurriedly  decline.  You  will  be  fortu- 
nate to  get  out  of  Naples  in  any  state  short  of  utter 
bankruptcy.  How  you  are  ever  to  get  home  to  Amer- 
ica, with  temptations  and  expenses  multiplying  so 
frightfully  upon  you,  sometimes  threatens  to  become 
a    serious  question. 

Naples  —  Excursions. 

You  have  been  two  days  in  Naples,  the  hotel  expenses 
and  temptations  of  the  street  eating  into  your  little 
capital.  For  value  received  your  intellects  have  nothing 
to  show.  Your  eyes  and  ears  have  been  full,  your  brain 
passive  and  empty.  You  rouse  yourself,  and  determine 
upon  an  investment.  To  learn  something,  you  must 
spend  something.  These  cherished  nai:)olcons  must 
decrease,  and  you  must,  if  possible,  increase. 

The  first  attempt  is  scarcel}'  a  success.  Having  heard 
marvels  of  the  conventual  chuixh  of  San  !Martino, 
formerly  belonging  to  the  Cistercian  brotherhood,  you 
consult  the  porter  of  the  hotel,  and   engage,  for  seven 


NAPLES EXCURSIONS.  97 

francs,  a  carriage  to  transport  you  thither.  The  drive  is 
one  immense  climb  under  the  heat  of  the  afternoon  sun. 
When  you  have  gained  the  difficult  ascent,  your  driver 
coolly  informs  you  that  the  church  is  always  closed  at 
four  P.  ]M.,  the  present  time  being  5.30.  "  Why  did  you 
not  tell  me  so?"  is  the  natural  but  useless  question. 
"  Because  I  could  not  in  that  case  have  got  seven  francs 
from  you,"  would  "be  the  real  answer.  The  driver 
shrugs  his  shoulders,  and  expects  a  scolding,  which  you 
are  too  indignant  to  give. 

But  you  are  not  to  be  defeated  in  this  way.  A  second 
expedition  is  planned  and  executed.  To  the  gates  of 
Pompeii  you  fly,  partly  by  steam,  and  partly  by  horse- 
aid.  You  alight  from  your  cloud  of  dust,  demand  a 
guide.  "  Yes  ;  you  can  have  the  guide  by  paying  also 
for  the  litter.  This  being  Sunday,  the  entrance  is  free, 
and  the  government  supplies  no  guide.  You  must  have 
the  portautina^  or  blunder  about  alone."  The  litter, 
with  its  j^ink  gingham  frill  and  cushion,  looks  hateful 
to  you.  You  remember  it  twenty-three  years  ago  with 
dislike.  The  sun  of  noon  is  hot  upon  you.  The  men 
are  unpersuadable.  Red  and  fierce  as  lava,  you  storm 
through  the  deserted  streets  of  the  ancient  capital  of 
seaside  luxury.  Like  the  lava,  you  soon  cool,  as  to  your 
temper  —  the  rest  of  you  continuing  at  120  Fahrenheit. 
There  are  two  of  your  part}- :  one  finds  the  litter  con- 
venient ;  the  other  also  gives  way,  and  you  ride  and 
tie,  as  the  saying  is,  in  very  amicable  style,  and  encour- 
age the  guide  to  tell  you  all  he  knows ;  but  he,  alas  ! 
has  cropped  but  the  verj'  top  of  the  clover.  The  frag- 
7 


98  FUO.M    TIIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

ments  of  history  which  he  is  able  to  give  you,  measure 
only  his  own  ignorance  and  yours. 

"  Here  is  the  Forum  in  which  the  Balbo  statues  were 
found.  At  the  upper  end  were  the  court  and  seat  of 
justice,  —  for  a  hgurc  was  found  there  bearing  a  bal- 
ance;  underneath  were  the  prisons."  Ah,  the  broken 
columns!  Stately  did  they  stand  around  the  mounted 
statues,  that  expected  to  ride  into  perpetual  fame  on 
their  marble  horses  —  now  most  famous  because  so  long 
forgotten.  "Wherever  four  streets  met,  madam,  stood  a 
fountain.  Tlie  Exchange  stood  also  in  the  Forum.  Here 
is  the  street  of  abundance,  in  which  was  found  a  marble 
bust  bearing  a  horn  of  plenty.  Here  is  the  Temple  of 
Isis.  By  this  secret  staircase  the  priest  ascended  and 
stood  unseen  behind  the  goddess,  making  the  sounds 
which  she  was  supposed  to  utter.  Here  was  the  bakery  ; 
behokl  the  ovens.  This  was  found  lllletl  \\  ith  newly 
baked  loaves.  [Yes ;  for  I  myself  beheld  them  in  the 
Museum  at  Naples.]  Ah,  madam  !  the  baths,  with  hot 
water  and  cold,  and  vapor.  In  those  niches  running 
around  the  wall  were  placed  the  vases  with  unguents. 
Here  is  the  House  of  the  Poet ;  here  that  of  the  Faun. 
See  the  frescos.  What  forms  !  what  colors  !  Here  is  a 
newly  excavated  house,  large  and  richly  appointed. 
Each  of  these  marble  columns  surrounding  the  inner 
court  contains  a  leaden  water-pipe  with  a  faucet,  so  that 
from  all  at  once  water  might  flow  to  cool  the  extreme  heats 
of  summer.  Here  still  stand  two  line  dragons  carved 
in  white  marble,  which  must  formerly  have  supported 
a    marble    slab.     See    what    a    garden  this  house  had  I 


NAPLES EXCURSIONS.  99 

What  a  fish-pond  !  Climb  this  stair,  madam,  if  you 
would  see  the  theatre.  This  larger  one  was  for  day 
performances.  Yonder  was  the  stage.  There  are  still 
the  grooves  for  the  scenes  to  slide  in.  There  was  the 
orchestra  [mostly  flutes  and  fiddles].  Here  sat  the 
nobles,  here  the  citizens,  here  the  plebeians.  From  this 
eminence  you  can  look  over  into  the  smaller  theatre  close 
at  hand,  in  which  night  performances  were  given."  And 
the  stately  dames,  with  those  jewels  which  you  saw 
stored  at  the  Museo,  and  dressed  and  undressed  like  the 
frescos  we  have  seen  to-day,  sat  on  their  cushioned 
benches,  and  wafted  their  perfumes  far  and  wide. 

Here  was  the  house  of  Diomed,  rich  and  very  exten- 
sive. The  skeleton  of  Diomed  (as  is  supposed)  was 
found  at  the  garden  gate,  with  the  key  of  the  house  and 
a  purse  of  money.  In  one  of  the  subterranean  rooms  is 
shown  the  impression  of  his  wife's  figure,  merely  a 
darker  mark  on  a  dark  wall.  Seventeen  similar  im- 
pressions were  found.  I  think  it  is  in  this  house  that 
the  walls  of  one  of  the  rooms  have  an  under-coating 
of  lead  to  keep  the  moisture  from  the  frescos,  which 
are  still  brilliant.  The  luxe  of  fountains  was,  as  is 
known,  great  and  universal  in  Pompeii,  and  the  arrange- 
ment of  its  leaden  conduits  is  ample  and  skilful.  Be- 
sides the  well-known  frescos,  with  their  airy  figures 
and  brilliant  coloring,  we  are  shown  a  bath,  whose 
vaulted  roof  is  adorned  with  stucco  reliefs,  arranged  in 
small  medallions,  octagons  alternating  with  squares. 

Presently  we  come  to  the  street  of  tombs.  Among 
these  I  best  remember  that  which  bears  the  inscription, 


lOO  FUOM    TlIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

'''' Diomcdc^  sibi^  siilsr  At  the  upper  end  uf  tliis  street 
we  find  a  semicircular  seat  of  stone,  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  guard.  Close  by  this  was  found  the  skel- 
eton of  the  sentinel  in  armor  which  we  saw  in  the 
Museimi  at  Naples.  In  the  prison  were  found  the  iron 
stocks,  witli  at  least  one  skeleton  in  them  ;  others 
chained  in  divers  ways.  A  feature  new  to  me  is  that 
of  various  diminutive  temples,  with  roofs  roundly  or 
sharjDly  arched,  devoted  to  the  household  gods.  These 
usually  stand  upon  an  elevated  projection,  and  might 
measure  three  feet  in  height  and  four  in  depth.  The 
guide  pointed  out  to  us  some  small,  square  windows, 
which  are  simply  open  squares  in  the  masonry,  defended 
by  iron  gratings,  deeply  rusted.  They  are  not  numer- 
ous. Our  guide  suggests  that  there  may  have  been  a 
tax  upon  windows,  accounting  for  their  rare  occurrence. 
One  he  shows  us  still  nearly  entire,  a  narrow  slit,  meas- 
uring, perhaps,  eight  inches  by  three,  with  a  slab  of  talc 
in  place  of  glass. 

And  presently  we  come  to  a  small  museum,  whose 
contents  are  much  the  same  in  kind  with  the  household 
remains  seen  by  us  in  the  Museum  at  Naples.  And  far- 
ther on  is  a  room  in  which  we  are  shown  tlie  quattro 
luorti —  the  four  dead  bodies  whose  impress  on  the 
hardened  cinders  which  surrounded  them  has  been  so 
ingeniously  utilizetl.  It  is  known  tliat  the  masses  of 
cinder  within  which  these  bodies  had  slowly  mouldered 
were  filled  with  liquid  plastei,  and  the  forms  of  the 
bodies  themselves,  writhing  in  their  last  agonies,  were 
thus  obt  lined.     One  of  these  (Igures  —  that  of  a  young 


NAPLES EXCURSIONS.  lOI 

woman  —  is  full  of  pathetic  expression.  She  lies  nearly 
on  her  face,  her  hand  near  her  eyes,  as  if  weeping. 
Her  back,  entirely  exposed,  has  the  fresh  and  smooth 
OLitliiie  of  youth.  The  forms  of  two  elder  women  and 
one  man  complete  the  sad  gallery.  Of  these  women 
one  wears  upon  her  finger  a  silver  ring,  the  plaster 
having  just  fitted  within  it.  This  figure  and  that  of  the 
man  are  both  swollen,  probably  from  the  decomposition 
that  took  place  before  the  crust  of  ashes  hardened  around 
them  into  the  rigid  mould  which  to-day  gives  us  their 
outlines. 

These  four  plaster  ghosts  were  the  last  sights  seen  by 
us  in  Pompeii.  For  by  this  time  we  had  walked  and 
ridden  three  hours,  and  those  three  the  most  fervent  of 
the  day,  beginning  soon  after  noon.  The  heat  was 
cruel  and  intense,  but  we  had  not  given  ourselves  time 
to  think  of  it.  The  umbrella  and  portantina  helped  us 
as  they  could,  but  the  feeling  that  the  work  had  to  be 
done  now  or  never  helped  us  most  of  all.  Our  vexation 
against  our  guides  had  long  ago  cooled  into  a  quiet 
good  will.  Relinquishing  the  fiery  journey,  which 
might  have  been  prolonged  some  hours  further,  we  paid 
the  rather  heavy  fee.  The  second  carrier  of  the  litter 
demanded  a  few  extra  pence,  reminding  us  that  at  our 
first  arrival  he  had  brushed  the  dust  from  our  dresses 
with  a  zeal  which  then  appeared  mysterious,  but  whose 
object  was  now  clear.  Parting  from  these,  we  passed 
into  the  little  inn,  quite  bare  and  dirty,  whose  coolness 
seemed  delicious.  We  here  ordered  an  afternoon 
dejeuner^  and  ate,  drank,  and  rested. 


i02  from  the  oak  to  the  olive. 

The  Capuchi\. 

While  we  waited  for  our  dinner,  a  Capuchin  at  another 
tabic  enjoyed  a  moderate  repast.  Bologna  sausage, 
cheese,  fruit,  and  wine  of  two  sorts  contented  him.  His 
robust  countenance  beamed  with  health,  his  e)  es  were 
intelligent.  This  was  one  of  the  personalities  of  which 
the  little  shown  makes  one  desirous  to  know  more. 
His  refreshment  consumed  and  paid  for,  he  began  a 
rambling  conversation  with  the  ^^arpcw  who  attended  us, 
as  well  as  with  the  proprietor  of  the  loca?ida  in  which 
we  were.  Capuchin  and  Garyon  mutually  deplored  the 
poverty  of  the  poor  in  Naples.  Capuchin  showed  two 
blue  silk  handkerchiefs  which  he  had  been  forced  to 
purchase,  for  compassion,  of  a  poor  woman.  Both  ob- 
viously considered  the  new  state  of  things  as  partly 
accountable  for  this  poverty,  which  is,  on  the  contrary, 
as  old  as  the  monastic  orders.  The  Capuchin  had  been 
preaching  Lenten  sermons  in  Greece,  and  had  been 
well  received.  .  Garyon  reioincd  tiiat  there  were  good 
Catholics  in  Greece,  agreeing  harmoniously  with  the 
man  in  brown.  But  at  this  juncture  another  face  looks 
in  at  the  door.  ''  That  is  the  man  who  plagues  me  to 
give  him  lucky  numbers  for  play,"  says  the  /rate. 
Here  I  can  keep  out  of  the  company  no  longer.  "  What 
does  he  play  at  —  cards  or  dice?"  I  ask.  ''Neither, 
madam  ;  that  man  ruins  himself  with  playing  at  the 
lottery."  Capuchin  cojitinues  :  "  If  I  had  the  gift  of 
fortunate  numbers,  I  would  not  withhold  them.  I 
should  wisii   to   bcnelit  my  fellow-creatures   in  this  way. 


THE    CAPUCHINT.  IO3 

if  I  were  able  to  do  so.  But  I  have  it  not,  this  gift  of 
prophecy."  And  if  }ou  had  it,  thought  I,  I  am  not  so 
sure  of  the  ultimate  benefit  of  gambling  to  your  fellow- 
creatures,  even  were  they  to  win,  instead  of  losing. 

The  Capuchin  and  I,  however,  talk  of  other  things  — 
of  monasteries,  and  rich  libraries,  closed  to  women. 
"  So,  father,  you  consider  us  the  allies  of  the  devil." 
'•No,  signora  ;  the.  inhibition  is  mutual:  we  may  not 
enter  any  nunnery."  The  padrone  of  the  inn  here  breaks 
in  with  the  robust  suggestion  that  these  restrictions 
ought  to  be  removed,  and  that  monks  and  nuns  should 
have  liberty  to  visit  each  the  establishments  of  the  other. 
While  this  talk  pi^oceeds,  I  occasionally  glance  into  the 
smoky  depths  of  the  kitchen  opposite,  where  a  mysteri- 
ous figure,  in  whose  cleanliness  I  desire  to  believe, 
wafts  a  frying-pan  across  a  dull  fire,  which  he  stimu- 
lates by  fiinning  with  a  turkey's  wing.  After  each 
of  his  gymnastics,  a  dish  is  brought  out,  and  set  upon 
our  table  —  first  fish,  then  omelet,  then  cutlet;  and  we 
discover  that  the  Capuchin  and  ourselves  have  a  mu- 
tual friend  at  Fuligno,  the  good,  intelligent,  accom- 
plished  Count   ,    in    whose  praises   each  of  us  is 

eloquent.  We  part,  exchanging  names  and  addresses. 
Our  Pompeian  guide  urges  us  to  return  and  make  the 
ascent  of  Vesuvius  under  his  care.  But  we  depart 
untrammelled.  Every  one  was  satisfied  with  us  except 
the  cripple  who  rolled  himself  in  the  dust,  and  the 
weird,  white-haired  women  with  spindles,  who  followed 
us  shrieking  for  a  largess.  We  gave  nothing,  and  they 
commented  upon  us  with  a  gravity  of  moral  reprobation 


I04  ruoM  Till';  oak  to  tiiI':  oi.ive. 

quite  fit  to  make  one's  hair  staiul  on  cnil,  even  witli  New 
England  versus  beggar  behind  one.  l^iit  the  train 
came,  and  mercifully  took  us  away  ;  and  whether  in  not 
giving  we  did  well  or  ill,  is  a  point  upon  which  theorists 
will  not  agree  ;  so  we  may  be  pardoned  for  giving  our- 
selves the  benefit  of  a  doubt. 

After  Pompeii  a  little  good  fortune  awaited  us.  As  be- 
fore said,  we  had  encountered  an  American  of  the  right 
sort,  —  kindly,  sincere,  and  of  ailcquate  education.  Join- 
ingforccswith  him,  we  no  longer  shivered  before  the  hack- 
man,  nor  shrank  from  the  va/c^  de  place.  Wc  at  once 
engaged  the  latter  functionary,  ordered  the  retnise  of  the 
hotel  to  wait  for  us,  and  started  upon  two  days  of  eager 
but  weary  sight-seeing.  Our  first  joint  act  was  to  scale 
again  the  height  of  San  Martino,  this  time  to  enter  the 
church  and  convent,  and  view  their  boasted  riches.  A 
pleasant  court,  with  a  well  in  the  centre  of  it ;  a  church 
whose  chapels  and  altars  were  gorgeous  with  lapis 
lazuli,  jasper,  agate,  and  all  precious  marbles ;  a  row 
of  seats  in  wooden  mosaic,  executed  by  a  monk  of 
the  Cistercian  order,  vowed  to  silence ;  cloisters  as 
spacious  and  luxurious  as  can  well  be  imagined;  a 
great  array  of  relics  in  golden  boxes,  shielded  from  dust 
and  common  sight  by  rich  curtains  of  heavy  silk  and 
gold  —  this  is  all  of  theestal)lisliment  that  remains  in  our 
recollection.  The  present  government  has  dismissed 
the  saintly  idlers  of  the  monasteries,  saying,  perhaps,  in 
the  style  of  Henry  VIII.,  "Go  plough,  you  drones, 
go  plough."  But  in  what  field  and  for  what  wages 
tliey  hcnccfortli  labor  is  not  known  to  me. 


THE    CAPUCHIN.  IO5 

Hence  to  the  Grotto  of  Siana,  half  a  mile  long,  and 
some  eight  feet  wide.  The  chill  of  this  long,  damp 
passage,  in  contrast  with  the  high  temperature  from 
which  we  entered  it,  so  alarmed  us  that  we  turned 
back  at  half  the  distance,  and  gave  up  seeing  the  den 
or  cave  that  lay  beyond.  At  Pozzuoli  we  view  Caligu- 
la's Bridge,  of  which  but  a  few  large  stones  remain  :  the 
guide  points  out  the  place  at  which  Paul  and  Peter  land- 
ed. Here  are  the  ruins  of  a  fine  amphitheatre.  The 
underground  arrangements  still  show  us  the  pits  in 
which  the  wild  beasts  and  the  gladiators  were  kept. 
Square  openings  at  the  top  ventilated  each  of  these,  and 
a  long,  open  space  in  the  middle  separated  the  cells  of 
the  beasts  from  those  of  the  gladiators.  On  public  oc- 
casions all  of  these  openings  were  closed  by  heavy 
plates  of  metal,  so  as  to  present  the  solid  surface  desired 
for  the  combats. 

"  Arise,  ye  Goths,  and  glut  your  ire !  " 

In  this  neighborhood  we  visited  what  is  left  of  the 
temple  of  Jupiter  Serapis.  The  salt  water  formerly 
covered  its  columns  to  such  a  height  as  to  corrode  them 
badly.  The  smell  caused  by  the  evaporation  of  the  sea- 
water  in  the  hot  sun  was  so  offensive  that  the  govern- 
ment found  it  necessary  to  apply  a  thorough  drain. 
These  time  and  tide  worn  marbles  were  of  the  choicest 
kinds  —  x\frican  nMirhle,  rosso  antico^  and  so  on.  Their 
former  beauty  little  avails  them  now.  We  drive  further 
to  the  cavern  with  the  stratum  of  carbonic  acid  gas,  and 
see  the  dog  victimized,  which  cruel  follv  costs  us  two 


Io6  FIIOM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

francs.  And  then  \vc  visit  the  sulphur  vapor  l)aths, 
whose  fiery,  volcanic  breath  frightens  us.  These  are 
near  the  Lake  of  Agnano,  an  ancient  volcanic  crater. 
In  its  neighborhood  are  the  royal  game  preserves,  in 
which  fratricidal  V.  E.  hunts  and  slays  the  wild  boar. 
Returning,  we  climb  to  Virgil's  tomb,  a  small,  empty 
enclosure,  with  a  stone  and  inscription  dating  from  1S40. 

"  Cecini  pasciui,  rura,  duces," 

says  the  poet,  through  his  commemorator.  Item,  this 
steep  journey  under  a  scorching  sun  did  not  pay  very 
well.  Yet,  having  ascended  the  fiery  stair,  and  stood  in 
the  small,  dark  enclosure,  and  read  the  tolerable  inscrip- 
tion, I  felt  that  I  had  done  what  I  could  to  honor  the 
great  Mantuan  :  so,  with  a  good  conscience,  I  returned 
through  cool,  ill-smelling  Posilippo,  to  the  hotel,  dinner, 
and  the  afternoon  meditation. 

Baja. 

The  excursion  to  Baja  called  us  up  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. With  a  tender  hush,  a  nnsterious  remembrance 
of  our  weaker  and  still  slccj)ing  brethren,  we  stole 
through  the  hotel,  swallowed  coflee,  and  issued  forth 
with  carriage  and  valet  dc  place  for  a  da3''s  campaign- 
ing. As  the  ^functionary  just  mentioned  had  invented  a 
hitherto  luipatcntcd  language,  supposed  by  him  to  pre- 
sent some  points  of  advantage  over  the  Qiieen's  English, 
I  will  here,  01  passant^  serve  up  a  brief  sample,  for  the 
study  of  those  inclined  to  the  j^raclical  pursuit  of  lin- 
guistics. 


BAJA.  107 

"  Zat  is  ze  leg  Agnano  [lake  of.]  In  vinter  he  is  full 
of  vile  dog  [wild  duck]."  Of  Lake  Avernus  :  "  Zis  was 
de  helty  [hell]."  Of  the  ruins  of  the  amphitheatre  at 
Pozzuoli :  "  Ruin  by  de  barbions  [barbarians].  Zey 
brok  him  in  piece  and  pushed  him  down.  Zar  is  Cali- 
gole's  [Caligula's]  Bridge.  Tis  de  Sibyl's  Cave,  where 
she  gib  de  ragle  [oracle].  Temple  Diana,  temple  Nep- 
tune, ze  god  of  ze  sea  and  zc  god  of  zc  land."  Here 
was  a  mythological  apercic  thrown  in.  This  individual 
rarely  condescended  to  speak  his  native  language  —  Ital- 
ian. In  ours,  it  required  no  little  adjustment  of  the  per- 
ceptive faculties  to  meet  his  views. 

Passing  through  Posilippo,  we  gome  first  to  a  piece 
of  ground  which  bears  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre,  al- 
though the  whole  structure,  if  it  exist  at  all,  is  thickly 
overgrown  with  trees  and  shrubs.  A  rustic  proprietor 
cultivates  the  vine  here,  but  cannot  pass  the  nights 
during  July,  August,  and  September,  on  account  of  the 
bad  air.  The  wines,  white  and  red,  are  nevertheless 
excellent.  The  right  of  excavation  here  vests  in  a 
Frenchman,  who  has  purchased  the  same. 

Our  next  point  of  exj^loration  is  the  Temple  of  Mer- 
cury, at  Baja — a  circular  building,  with  fine  columns 
partly  overthrown.  Here  exists  a  perfect  whispering 
gallery,  for  at  a  certain  spot  in  the  wall*  the  slightest 
utterance  is  instantly  heard  at  the  point  directly  oppo- 
site. Here  two  forlorn  women,  with  a  tambourine  and 
without  costume,  dance  a  joyless  tarantella^  which 
costs  us  a  franc.  They  urge  us,  also,  to  buy  sea-shells, 
and  small  fragments  of  mosaic,  together  with  skeletons 


loS  FROM    TJIK    OAK    TO    TIIli:    OI.IVE. 

of  the  sca-horsc,  a  (]iiccr  little  fish,  some  two  inches 
lonjj.  After  this,  we  arc  shown  some  coliindmria^  and 
a  bath  with  stucco  reliefs.  Adjacent  is  the  well  pre- 
served ruin  of  a  large  bathing  establishment.  Besides 
the  baths,  we  here  find  places  for  reclining,  where  vapor 
baths  were  probably  enjoyed. 

Now  come  Nero's  prisons,  gloomy,  under-ground  gal- 
leries, in  which  he  kept  his  slaves.  Torches  here  became 
necessary.  These  galleries,  destitute  of  daylight,  were 
quite  extensive,  frequently  crossing  each  other  at  right 
angles.  And  then  we  visited  the  Piscina  IMirahilis,  an 
immense  reservoir  which  formerly  supplied  the  Roman 
fleet  at  Jvlarina  with  fresh  water.  Its  tall  columns,  still 
entire,  are  deeply  corroded  by  water.  This  was  a 
work  of  surprising  extent  and  finish.  Thereafter, 
mindful  of  Murder  considered  as  a  Fine  Art,  we  gave 
some  heed  to  the  whereabouts  of  Agrippina's  villa, 
and  inquired  concerning  those  matricidal  attempts  of 
her  son,  which  were  finally  crowned  with  so  entire 
a  success.  The  villa  of  Ilortensius,  in  this  neighbor- 
hood, lies  chiefly  under  water,  the  level  of  the  ground 
having  changed.  Perhaps  this  villa  was  anciently  built 
on  ground  reclaimed  from  the  sea,  as  Horace  says, — 

"  Marisque  Baiis  obstrepentis  urges 
Siimmoverc  litora.     Parum  lociiplcs  contincntc  ripa." 

We  next  visited  the  Lake  of  Avernus,  and  Lake  Fusa- 
no,  the  River  Styx  of  Virgil  and  tiie  Romans.  Bordering 
upon  this  we  found  a  whole  hill-side  honeycombed  with 


BAJA.  109 

columbaria.  Then  came  the  long  sulphurous  gallery 
leading  to  the  hot  spring  in  which  eggs  are  boiled  for 
your  instruction.  Each  of  these  visitations  has  its  fee, 
so  that  the  pilgrimage,  even  if  made  on  foot,  would 
be  a  costly  one.  Cuma  next  claimed  us.  A  long,  dark 
gallery  leads  to  the  cave  of  the  Cumaean  Sibyl,  de- 
scribed by  Virgil.  But  the  presence  of  water  here 
makes  it  necessary  for  visitors  to  sit  upon  the  shoulders 
of  two  or  three  shaggy  and  uncleanly-looking  sprites. 
We  stoutly  decline  this  adventure,  and  are  afterwards 
sorry.  From  this  neighborhood  was  taken  the  Cumtean 
collection,  which  figures  at  the  JSIuseo  JSfazionale.,  pre- 
sented by  the  Prince  of  Carignano.  Somewhere  in  the 
course  of  this  crowded  and  heated  day,  a  dinner  was 
slidden  in,  which  gave  our  labor  a  brief  interval  of  rest 
and  refreshment.  It  consisted  mostly  of  dirt,  in  various 
forms,  flavored  with  cheese,  garlic,  and  a  variety  of 
savors  equally  choice.  To  facilitate  its  consumption, 
we  drank  a  sour-sweet  fluid,  called  white  Capri.  I 
found  none  of  the  Italian  wines  joyous.  Despite  their 
want  of  body,  they  give  one's  nerves  a  decided  shake. 
Well,  I  have  narrated  all  that  took  place  on  the  day 
set  apart  for  Baja.  Its  results  may  be  prosaically 
summed  up  as  heat,  haste,  and  headache,  with  a  con- 
fused vision  of  the  past  and  a  most  fragmentary  sense 
of  the  present. 


no  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

CArni. 

I  have  a  fresh  chapter  of  torment  for  a  new  Datitc, 
if  sucli  an  one  coukl  be  induced  to  apply  to  me.  I  will 
not  expatiate,  nor  exhale  any  Francesca  episodes,  any 
'•''  Lasciate  ogni  spiratiza !"  I  will  be  succinct  and 
business-like,  furnishing  the  outlines  from  which  some 
more  leisurely  artist,  better  paid  and  employed,  shall  do 
his  hell-painting. 

We  leave  enchanting  Naples,  —  tear  ourselves  from 
our  hotel,  whose  very  impositions  grow  dear  to  us ; 
the  precious  window,  too,  which  shows  the  bay  and 
Capri,  and  close  at  hand  the  boats,  the  fish-maiket, 
and  the  chairs  on  which  the  populace  sit  at  eventide 
to  eat  oysters  and  drink  mineral  water.  A  small  boat 
takes  us  to  a  very  small  steamer,  on  whose  deck  we 
pay  ten  francs  each  to  a  stout  young  man,  in  appear- 
ance much  like  a  southern  poor  Buckra,  who  departs 
in  another  small  boat  as  soon  as  he  has  plundered  us. 
The  voyage  to  Capri  is  cool  and  reasonably  smooth.  A 
pleasant  chance  companion,  bound  to  the  same  port, 
beguiles  the  time  for  us.  We  exchange  our  intellectual 
small  wares  with  a  certain  good  \vill,  which  remains  the 
best  part  of  the  bargain.  \\'hLMi  ([uito  near  the  i.slaiul, 
the  small  steamer  pauses,  and  lowers  a  boat  in  which 
wc  descend  to  view  the  famous  Blue  Grotto.  At  the 
entrance,  we  arc  warned  to  stoop  as  low  as  possible. 
We  do  so,  and  still  the  entrance  seems  dangerous. 
With  some  scratching  and  pushing,  however,  the  boat 
goes  through,  and  the    lovers  of  blue   feast  their  eyes 


CAPRI.  Ill 

with  the  tender  coloi".  The  water  is  uUramarine,  and 
the  roof  sapphire.  The  place  seems  a  toy  of  nature  —  a 
forced  detention  of  a  single  ray  of  the  spectrum.  Dyes 
change  with  the  fashion  ;  the  blue  of  our  youth  does  not 
color  our  daughter's  silks  and  ribbons.  The  purples  of 
ten  years  ago  cannot  be  met  with  to-day.  But  this  blue 
is  constant,  and  therefore  perfect. 

Our  enjoyment  of  it,  however,  is  marred  by  an  old 
beast  in  human  form  who  rushes  at  us,  and  insists  upon 
being  paid  two  francs  for  diving.  He  promises  us  that 
he  will  show  us  wondrous  things  —  that  he  will  fill  the 
azure  cave  with  silver  sparkles.  Wearied  with  his 
screeching,  and  a  little  deluded  by  his  promises,  we 
weakly  offer  him  a  franc  and  a  half;  whereupon  he 
throws  off  some  superfluous  clothing,  and  softly  glides 
into  the  deep,  without  so  much  as  a  single  sparkle. 
He  certainly  presents  an  odd  appearance  ;  his  weird 
legs  look  as  if  twisted  out  of  silver ;  his  back  is  dark 
upon  the  water.  But  the  refreshing  bath  he  takes  is  so 
little  worth  thirty  sous  to  us  that  we  feel  tempted  to 
harpoon  him  as  he  dodges  about,  sure  that,  if  pierced, 
he  can  shed  nothing  more  solid  than  humbug.  On 
our  return  to  the  steamer  we  pay  two  francs  each  for 
this  melancholy  expedition,  and  presently  make  the 
little  harbor  of  Capri. 

And  here  the  promised  Hell  begins.  The  way  to  it, 
remember,  is  always  pleasant.  No  sooner  does  our 
boat  touch  the  land  than  a  nest  of  human  rattlesnakes 
begins  to  coil  and  hiss  about  us,  each  trying  to  cany  us 
off,  each  pouring  into  our  ears  discordant,  rapid  jargon. 


112  FROM    THE    OAK   TO    THE    OLIVE. 

"My  donkey,  siora."  "Ami  mine."  "And  mine." 
"  How  much  will  you  give?  "  "  Will  you  go  up  to  Ti- 
berio?"  But  all  this  with  more  repetition  and  less 
music  than  a  chorus  of  llandcl's  or  an  aria  of  Sebastian 
Bach.  "  My  donkey,"  flourish  ;  "  My  do-n-onkey,"  high 
soprano  variation  ;  "  My  donkey,"  good  grumbling  con- 
tralto. "  How  much  ?  "  "  How  much  ?  "  "  How  much  ?  " 
"How  much?"  shriek  all  in  chorus.  And  you,  the 
unhappy  star  in  this  hell  opera,  begin  with  uncertain 
utterance  —  "  Let  mc  see,  good  people.  One  at  a  time. 
What  is  just  I  will  pay" — the  vwtlvo  also  repeated; 
chorus  renewed  —  "  Money  ;  "  "  Three  francs  ;  "  "  Four 
francs;"  "Five  francs  ;"  '■'■  Abott/'glia;"  "A  buona  ma- 
no^  A  biiona  fuano?  Good  hand  —  would  one  could 
administer  it  in  the  right  way,  in  the  right  place  !  By 
this  time  each  of  you  occupies  the  warm  saddle  of  a  don- 
key, and  at  one  P.  M.,  less  twenty,  the  thermometer  at 
90  Fahrenheit  or  more,  and  being  warned  to  reach  the 
steamer  by  three  P.  M.,  at  latest,  the  punishment  of  all 
your  past,  and  most  of  your  future  sins  begins. 

Facile  descensus  Averni.  Yes  ;  but  the  asccnsus? 
To  climb  so  high  after  Tiberio,  who  went  so  low ! 
For  this  is  the  ruined  palace  of  Tiberius  Cicsar  himself, 
which  you  go  to  seek  and  see,  if  possible.  He  still 
jilagues  the  world,  as  he  would  have  wished  to  do. 
Your  expedition  in  search  of  his  stony  vestiges  is  a 
long  network  of  torment,  spun  by  you,  the  donkey, 
antl  the  donkey-driver,  mulisguised  Apollo  standing 
by  to  weld  the  golden  chains  by  which  you  suiVer. 
As  often  as  you  seem  to  approach  the  object,  a   new 


CAPRI.  11^ 

detour  leads  you  at  a  zigzag  from  the  straight    direc- 
tion.    But   this  is  little.     At  every  turn   in   the   road   a 
beggar,   in  some  variety,   addresses   you.       Now   a  de- 
formed   wretch    shows    you    his    tv^^isted     limbs,     and 
shrieks,  "  co  cosa^  siora."     Now,  a  wholesome-looking 
mother,  with  a  small  child,  asks  a  contribution  to  the 
wants  of  "  questa  creatura."     Now,  a  grandam,  with 
blackened   face    and    bleached   hair,  hobbles  after  you. 
Children   oppress    you    with  flowers,  women   with    or- 
anges,—  all  in  view  of  the  largest  qiud  {ox  the  small- 
est quo.      You   grow   afraid    to   look    in   a  pretty  face 
or  return  a  civil  nod,  lest  the  eternal  signal  of  beggary 
should    make   itself   manifest.       And  such  women  .and 
children!  —  every  one  a    picture.      Such  intense   eyes, 
such   sun-ripened    complexions!      I  take  note  of  them, 
handsome  devils    that   they  are,  all    foreordained   as  a 
part  of  my   fiery   probation.      For  all   this  time  I    am 
making  a  steep  ascent.      Sometimes   the  donkey  takes 
me    up    a    flight    of    stone    steps,    clutching    at    each 
with  an  uncertain  quiver,  but  stimulated   by  the  nasal 
"n — a  —  a  —  a,"  which  follows  him  from  the  woman 
who    by   turns    coaxes   and    threatens  him.      Now   we 
clamber  along  a   narrow  ledge,   whose    height    causes 
my  dizzy  head  to  swim  ;    there   is  nothing  but  special 
providence  between   me   and   perdition.      A  little  girl, 
six  years  of  age,  pulls  my  donkey  by  the  head  ;  a  digni- 
fied matron  behind  me  holds  the  whip.     The   little  girl 
leads   carelessly,  and   I  quake   and  grow  hot  and  cold 
with  terror  ;  but  it  is  of  no  use.     The  matron  will   not 
take  the  rein  ;    her  ofiice  is   to  flog,   and    she  will  do 
S 


114  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

nought  else.  And  the  sun?  —  the  sun  works  his  mira- 
cles upon  lis  until  we  wish  ourselves  as  well  olV  as  the 
Niobides,  who,  at  least,  look  cool.  Finally,  after  an 
hour  of  jolting,  roasting,  quivering,  and  general  exasper- 
ation, we  reach  the  top.  Here  we  are  passively  lifted 
fioni  our  donkeys  ;  we  mecluuiically  follow  our  guide 
through  a  white-washed  wine-shop  into  a  small  outer 
space,  with  a  low  wall  around  it,  over  which  we  are 
invited  to  look  down  some  hundreds  of  feet  into  the  sea. 
This  is  called  the  Leap  of  Tiberio  :  from  this  height, 
says  the  barefooted  old  vagabond  who  guides  us,  he 
pitched  his  victims  into  the  deep.  The  descent  here  is 
as  straight  as  the  wall  of  a  house.  Farther  on,  we  find 
some  very  fragmentary  ruins,  in  the  usual  Roman  style. 
Among  them  is  a  good  mosaic  pavement,  with  some 
vaults  and  broken  columns.  A  sloping  way  is  shown 
us,  carefully  paved,  and  with  a  groove  on  either  side. 
Into  this,  say  they,  fitted  the  wheels  of  a  certain  cliariot, 
in  which  guests  were  invited  to  seat  themselves.  The 
chariot,  guided  by  two  cords,  then  started  to  go  down 
to  the  sea.  But  at  a  certain  moment  the  vehicle  was 
arrested  by  a  sudden  shock.  Those  within  it  were  pre- 
cipitated into  the  water,  after  which  the  cords  comfort- 
ably drew  the  chariot  back. 

I  have  never  heard  any  of  the  evidence  upon  which 
is  based  the  modern  rehabilitation  of  Tiberius  and  Nero. 
I  have,  however,  found  in  tiie  stately  Tacitus,  and  even 
in  gossipy  Suetonius,  a  shudder  of  horror  accompany- 
ing the  narration  of  their  deeds.  The  world  has  seen 
cruelty  in  all  ages,  and  sees  it  still ;  but  I  cannot  be- 


CAPRI.  115 

lleve  that  the  average  standard  of  humanity  can  justly 
be  lowered  so  far  as  to  make  the  acts  of  Tiberius  sim- 
ply rigorous,  those  of  Nero  a  little  arbitrary.  ]^>Ir.  Car- 
lyle,  in  dealing  with  the  French  revolution,  reprobates 
the  hysterical  style  of  reviewing  painful  events  ;  but  in 
the  history  of  Rome  under  the  Ctesars  we  hear  too 
plainly  the  sobs  and  shrieks  of  the  victims  to  be  satis- 
fied with  the  modern  philosophizing  which  would  de- 
prive them  of  our  compassion.  !Man  is  naturally  cruel ; 
superstition  makes  him  more  so.  A  genuine  religion 
alone  softens  his  ferocious  instincts,  and  places  the  cen- 
tre of  action  and  obligation  elsewhere  than  in  his  own 
pleasure  or  personal  advantage.  iSlan  is  also  compas- 
sionate ;  but  without  the  systematic  formation  of  morals, 
his  weak  compassion  will  not  compensate  the  ardor  of 
his  self-assertion,  which  may  involve  all  crimes.  Lux- 
uiy  exaggerates  cruelty,  because  it  intensifies  the  action 
of  the  selfish  interests,  and  loosens  the  rein  of  restraint 
—  its  objects  and  the  objects  of  morals  being  incompati- 
ble. The  most  cruel  characters  have  been  those  pre- 
senting this  admixture  of  luxury  and  ferocity.  The 
silken  noose  gives  finer  and  more  atrocious  death  than 
the  iron  sword. 

I  think  that  the  (unless  vilified)  wretch  Tiberius  built 
this  palace  in  fear,  and  dwelt  in  it  in  torment.  In  its 
fastnesses  he  felt  himself  safe  from  the  knife  of  the 
assassin.  In  the  leisure  of  its  isolation  he  could  medi- 
tate murders  with  aesthetic  deliberation,  and  hurl  his 
bolts  of  death  upon  the  world  below,  remorseless  and 
unattainable  as  Jove  himself. 


Il6  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

Here  is  an  episode  of  pliilosophizing  in  the  liell  I 
promised  you.  15iit  licll  itself  would  not  be  complete 
without  the  button-bore  —  the  man  or  woman  who  holds 
you  by  a  theory,  and  detains  you  amid  life's  intensity  to 
attend  the  slow  circlings  of  an  elaborative  brain. 

I  have  now  iinishcd  Tiberio.  The  donkeys  brought 
us  down  with  more  danger,  moi'e  heat,  more  fear  and 
clatter.  Only  beggary  diminishes,  a  little  discouraged, 
in  our  rear.  It  seems  to  have  been  given  out  that  we 
have  no  small  change,  as  is  indeed  the  fact ;  so  the 
young  and  old  only  grumble  after  us  enough  to  keep 
their  hand  in.  In  compensation  for  this,  however,  a 
new  trouble  is  added,  viz.,  the  danger  of  losing  the 
small  steamboat,  which  threatens  to  leave  at  three 
P.  M.,  a  period  by  this  time  scarce  half  an  hour  distant. 
Yet  a  bit  of  bread  we  must  have  at  the  hotel.  It  is 
the  former  palace  of  Qiieen  Joanna  ;  but  we  do  not 
know  it  at  the  moment,  and  nothing  leads  us  to  suspect 
it.  Here  two  good-natured  English  faces  make  us  for 
the  moment  at  home.  A  cup  of  tea,  —  the  English  and 
American  restorative  for  all  fatigues,  —  a  wholesome 
slice  of  bread  and  butter,  a  moderate  charge,  and  ten 
minutes  of  cool  seclusion,  make  the  Hotel  di  Tiberio 
pleasant  in  our  recollection.  And  then  we  remount, 
and,  the  little  steamer  beginning  to  manoeuvre,  our 
haste  and  anxiety  become  extreme ;  so  we  take  no 
more  heed  of  steep  or  narrow,  but  the  donkeys  and  we 
make  one  headlong  business  of  it  down  to  the  beach, 
where  we  have  still  to  make  a  secondary  embarkation 
before  reaching  the  steamer.    Here,  as  we  had  foreseen, 


CAPRI.  117 

the  final  crush  attends  us.  The  guide  and  each  of  the 
donkey  girls  and  women  insist  upon  separate  payment. 
With  grim  satisfaction  I  fling  a  five-franc  note  for  the 
whole.  It  is  too  much,  but  the  whole  island  cannot  or 
will  not  give  change  for  it.  And  then  ensues  much 
shrieking,  expostulation,  and  gesticulation,  in  the  midst 
of  which  I  plunge  into  the  boat,  make  my  bargain  with 
Charon,  and  am  for  the  time  out  of  hell.  As  I  looked 
back,  methought  I  saw  Stefano  the  guide  and  the  women 
having  it  out  pretty  well  with  reference  to  the  undivided 
fee.  Stefano  leaped  wildly  into  the  sea  after  me,  and 
extorted  five  more  soldi  from  my  confusion.  Finally,  I 
exhort  all  good  Christians  to  beware  of  Capri,  and  ou 
no  account  to  throw  away  a  trip  thither,  but  to  un- 
dertake the  same  as  a  penance,  for  the  mortification 
of  the  flesh  and  the  good  of  the  immortal  soul.  The 
island  is  to-day  in  as  heathen  a  condition  as  Tiberius 
himself  could  wish  ;  only  from  a  golden,  it  has  de- 
scended to  the  perpetual  invoking  of  a  copper  rain. 
That  the  Beggai"'s  Opera  should  have  been  written  out 
of  the  kingdom  of  Naples  is  a  matter  of  reasonable 
astonishment  to  the  logically  inferring  mind.  I  could 
improvise  it  myself  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  making 
a  heroine  out  of  the  black-eyed  woman  who  drove  my 
animal  —  black-haired  also,  and  with  a  scarlet  cotton 
handkerchief  bound  around  her  head  in  careless  pictu- 
resqueness.  Gold  ear-rings  and  necklace  had  she  who 
screamed  and  begged  so  for  a  penny  more  than  her  due. 
And  when  I  cried  aloud  in  fear,  she  replied,  '■''  JVon  abbia 
timor — donkey  ?)iolf  avezzo ;"  which  diverted  my  mind, 


Il8  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

and  caused  mc  to  laugh.  As  \vc  went  up  and  as  we 
went  d<j\vii,  she  encountered  all  her  friends  and  gossips 
in  holiday  attire ;  for  yesterday  was  Festa^  and  to-day, 
consequently,  \%  fcsta  also  —  a  saint's  day  leaving  many 
small  arrearages  to  settle,  in  the  shape  of  headache, 
light,  and  so  on,  so  that  one  does  not  comfortably  get 
to  work  again  until  the  third  day.  This  fact  of  the 
antecedent  fcsta  accounted  for  the  iniusual  amount  of 
good  clothes  displayed  throughout  the  island.  Our 
eyes  certainly  profited  by  it,  and  possibly  our  purses  ; 
for  we  just  remember  that  one  or  two  groujos  in  velvet 
jackets  and  gold  necklaces  did  not  beg. 

But  all  of  this  is  a  superfluous  after-digression,  as  I 
am  really,  in  my  narrative,  already  on  board  of  the  little 
steamer,  with  the  charital)le  waves  between  me  and  the 
brigand  Caprians.  A  pleasant  sail  —  not  so  smooth  but 
that  it  made  the  Italian  passengers  ill  —  brought  us  to 
Sorrento.  Here  our  trunk  was  hoisted  on  the  head  of  a 
stout  fellow,  all  the  small  fry  of  the  harbor  squabbling 
for  our  minor  luggage.  We  climbed  a  long,  steep  flight 
of  stone  steps,  walked  through  a  shady  orange  garden, 
and  came  out  upon  a  cool  terrace  fronting  the  sea,  with 
the  Rispoli  Hotel  beliind  it.  Here  we  were  to  stay  ; 
our  bargain  was  soon  made,  with  the  divine  prospect 
thrown  in.  Our  room  was  on  the  ground  floor,  behind 
a  shallow  arcade  paved  witli  majolica.  Shaking  ofl' the 
dust  of  travel,  and  ranging  our  few  eflects  in  the  rather 
narrow  quarters,  we  at  once  took  possession  of  the 
prospect,  and  regulated  ourselves  accordingly. 


SORRENTO. 


119 


Sorrento. 

Ugh  !  after  the  roasting,  hurried  day  at  Capri,  how 
delicious  was  the  first  morning's  rest  at  Sorrento  !  The 
coral  merchant  came  and  went.  We  did  not  allow  him 
to  trouble  us.  They  offered  us  the  hotel  asses ;  we  did 
not  engage  them.  The  blue  sea,  the  purple  mountains, 
the  green,  rustling  orange  groves,  —  these  were  enough 
for  us,  pieced  with  the  writing  of  these  ragged  notes, 
and  a  little  dipping  into  our  Horace,  who,  it  must  be 
confessed,  goes  lamely  without  a  dictionary.  A  day  of 
lights  and  shadows,  of  sunshine  and  silence,  of  pains 
caressed,  and  fatigues  whose  healing  was  sweeter  than 
fresh  repose.  And  we  dreamed  of  novels  that  we  could 
write  beneath  this  romance-forging  sun,  and  how  the 
commonplace  men  and  women  about  us  should  take 
grandiose  shapes  of  good  and  ill,  and  figure  as  ideals, 
no  longer  as  atoms.  We  would  forsake  our  scholastic 
anatomy,  and  make  studies  of  real  life,  with  color  and 
action.  For  this,  as  we  know,  we  should  need  at  least 
six  months  of  freedom,  which  perhaps  the  remnant  of 
our  mortal  lives  does  not  offer.  Meantime  we  sit  and 
dream.  Each  sees  the  content  of  the  landscape  reflect- 
ed in  the  other's  eyes.  We  sit  just  within  our  room,  the 
little  writing-table  half  within,  half  without  the  win- 
dow, that  reaches  to  the  ground.  The  soft  breeze  flut- 
ters our  pages  to  and  fro.  We  scold  it  caressingly,  as 
one  reproves  the  overplay  of  a  gracious  child.  With 
the  exception  of  an  occasional  straggling  visitor,  the 
whole  terrace  is  ours.     Now  and  then  we  forsake  the 


I20  FROM    TIIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

writing-table,  rush  to  tlic  railing  that  borders  the  ter- 
race, and  take  a  good  look  up  and  down,  to  assure  our- 
selves that  what  we  see  is  real,  and  founded  on  terra 
firma.  Here  our  wearied  nerves  shall  bathe  in  seas  of 
heavenly  rest.  As  to  our  suffering  finances,  too,  —  if 
one  word  is  not  too  often  profaned  for  us  to  profane  it, 
wc  will  quote  Horace's 

"  inox  rcficit  rates  quassas," 
not 

"  indociles  pauperiem  pati   ' 

Here  our  rapture  will  cost  nothing.  We  will  feed 
our  eyes.  The  sea  and  sky  shall  wear  sapphires  and 
diamonds  for  us.  Our  shabbiness  will  be  the  aesthetic 
complement  to  their  splendors.  Do  you  not  remember 
the  figures  in  brown  or  olive  green  that  always  lurk  in 
the  corners  of  pictures  in  whose  centre  the  Madonna,  or 
some  saint,  is  glorified?  They  also  serve,  who  only 
stand  and  wait  in  the  shadow.  So  will  wc  do  now. 
We  will  lie  forgotten  in  the  corner  of  this  splendid  pic- 
ture, while  our  time  and  our  remaining  credit  equalize 
themselves  a  little.  The  days  in  Naples  considerably 
outran  our  estimate  ;  the  days  here  must  make  up  for  it. 
And  we  want  nothing;  and  all  is  delightful. 

It  is  true,  we  do  not  carry  out  those  good  intentions 
quite  literally.  Who  ever  does?  IJut  we  adhere  to  our 
proposed  outline  of  rigid  economy  with  onlv  an  occa- 
sional break.  We  soon  begin  to  take  note  of  small 
temptations  that  lie  about  the  streets.  Here  we  see  the 
little   neck-ribbons    that   are   so   cheap   and    pretty.     A 


SORRENTO.  131 

handful  of  them  twisted  around  the  neck  of  Economy 
give  her  something  of  a  cholve.  Further  on  in  our  days 
and  walks,  a  sound  of  saws  in  motion  arrests  our  atten- 
tion ;  while  a  sign  and  tempting  show-case  urge  us  at 
least  to  look  at  the  far-famed  Sorrento  woodwork.  We 
enter ;  we  set  the  tenth  clause  of  the  Decalogue  at 
nought,  coveting  wildly.  Brackets,  tea,  glove,  and  cash 
boxes  are  displayed  there  for  our  overthrow  ;  watch- 
cases,  on  a  new  principle,  all  either  brave  with  mosaic, 
or  smooth  and  shining  in  the  simple  beauty  of  the  olive 
wood.  Something  of  all  this  we  snatched  and  fled. 
We  took  far  too  little  for  our  wishes,  rather  too  much 
for  our  means.  Silk  stockings  we  did  resist  by  that 
simplest  and  best  of  measures  —  not  entering  the  shops 
in  which  they  were  pressingly  advertised.  The  very 
passing  of  those  shops  gave  us,  ho\vever,  vague  dreams 
of  swimming  about  in  silken  movements  ;  how  grateful 
in  a  world  of  heat !  But  the  line  has  to  be  drawn  some- 
where, and  we  draw  it  here. 

A  donkey  excursion  pleasantly  varies  our  experience  in 
Sorrento.  Do  you  know  how  much  a  donkey  ride  means 
in  Sorrento  ?  It  does  not  mean  a  perpetual  jolt,  and  hor- 
rible inter-asinicidal  contest  between  the  ass  who  carries 
the  stick  and  the  ass  who  carries  you.  The  donkeys  of 
Sorrento  are  fat  and  well-liking :  smooth  and  gray  are 
the  pair  that  come  for  us,  comfortable  as  to  the  saddle 
and  the  bridle.  And  our  donkey-driver  is  a  handsome 
youth,  with  a  bold,  frank  countenance,  and  the  ripest 
olive  and  vermilion  complexion.  His  walk  is  graceful 
and  robust ;  he  knows  every  one  he  meets,  and  has  his 


122  lUO.M     rillC    OAK     TO    THE    OLl\'H. 

bit  of  fun  with  sundry  of  the  groups  who  pass  us. 
These  consist  of  men  and  women  bearing  on  their  heads 
large  flat  baskets  filled  with  cocoons,  or  in  their  hands 
bundles  of  the  same ;  girls  leading  mules,  or  carry- 
ing household  burdens ;  soldiers,  beggars,  Neapolitan 
princes,  the  syndic  of  Sorrento,  and  other  varieties  of  the 
species  vaguely  called  human,  lie  takes  us  up  a  steep 
and  rough  ascent  to  the  telegraph  station.  There  arc 
many  bad  bits  in  the  road  ;  he  is  but  one,  and  the  tlon- 
keys  are  two  ;  but  he  has  such  a  clever  way,  at  critical 
moments,  of  holding  on  to  the  head  of  the  second  donkey 
in  conjunction  with  the  tail  of  the  lirst,  that  he  gets  the 
two  cowardly  riders  through  many  difficulties  and  more 
fears.  Once  on  level  ground,  the  donkeys  amble  along 
delightfully.  So  pleasant  is  the  whole  in  remembrance, 
that,  sitting  here,  at  an  interval  of  many  miles  in  dis- 
tance, and  ten  days  in  time,  we  feel  a  sincere  twinge  in 
remembering  that  we  gave  him  only  a  franc  for  himseit", 
paying  by  agreement  two  francs  for  eitlier  donkey.  For- 
give us,  beauteous  and  generous  Gactano,  and  do  not 
curse  us  in  aggio  and  saggio,  the  open-mouthed  patois 
of  your  country. 

Florence. 

A  week  is  little  for  the  grandeurs  of  Florence,  much 
for  the  discomforts  of  its  summer  weather.  The  last 
week  of  May,  which  we  passed  there,  mistook  itself  for 
June,  and  governed  itself  accordingly.  We  went  out  as 
early  as  human  weakness,  unsubdued  by  special  disci- 
pline, permitted.     We  struggled  with  church,  gallery, 


FLORENCE.  1 23 

painting,  sculpture,  and  antiquities.  We  breathlessly 
read  sensible  books,  guides,  and  catalogues,  in  the  little 
intervals  of  our  siglit-seeing.  We  dropped  at  night, 
worn  and  greedy  for  slumber ;  and  the  day  died,  and 
made  no  sign. 

A  hot  week,  but  a  hapjDy  one.  To  be  overcome  in 
a  good  cause  is  glorious,  and  our  failure,  we  trust,  was 
quantitative,  not  qualitative.  Good  friends  helped  us, 
took  away  all  little  troubles  and  responsibilities  ;  took 
us  about  in  carriages  of  dignity  and  ease,  and  landed  us 
before  royal,  imperial  works  of  art.  With  all  their  aid 
and  cherishing,  Florence  was  too  many  for  us.  So,  of 
her  garment  of  splendors,  we  were  able  only  to  catch 
at  and  hold  fast  a  shred  here  and  there,  and  whether 
these  fragments  are  worth  weaving  into  a  chapter  at  all, 
will  better  appear  when  we  shall  have  made  the  experi- 
ment of  so  combining  them. 

Our  first  view  of  her  was  by  night ;  when,  wearied  with 
a  day's  shaking,  a  hot  and  a  long  one,  we  tumbled  out 
of  railroad  car  into  arms  of  philanthropic  friend,  who 
received  us  and  our  bundles,  selected  our  luggage,  con- 
quered our  porter  and  hackman,  pointed  to  various  inter- 
esting quadrangles  of  lamps,  and  said,  "This  is  Floi-ence." 
But  we  had  seen  such  things  before,  and  gave  little  heed 
—  our  thought  machinery  being  quite  run  down  for  lack 
of  fuel.  The  aspect  which  we  first  truly  perceived,  and 
still  remember,  was  that  of  a  clean  and  friendly  interior, 
a  tea-table  het,  a  good  lamp  bright  with  American  pe- 
trolio  (O  shade  of  Downer!),  and,  behind  an  alcove, 
the    dim,    inviting   perspective    of    a    comfortable    bed. 


134  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

wliicli  seemed  to  say,  "  Come  hither,  \\  eaiy  ones.   I  have 
waited  long  enough,  and  so  have  you." 

Palazzo  Pitti. 

The  second  aspect  of  Florence  was  tlie  Pitti  Palace, 
brown  ant!  massi\e  ;  and  the  bridges  numerously  span- 
ning tlie  bright  river  ;  and  the  gay,  busy  streets,  shady  in 
lengths  and  sunny  only  in  patches;  the  picturesque  we- 
/a?/^*"*?  of  business  and  of  leisure,  artisans,  country  people, 
English  travellers  and  dressed-up  Americans ;  the  jew- 
eller's bridge,  displaying  ropes  of  pearls  and  flashes  of 
diamonds,  with  endless  knottings  and  perplexities  of 
gold  and  mosaic  ;  alabaster  shops,  reading-rooms,  book- 
stores, fashions,  cabinets  of  antiquities —  all  leading  to  a 
welcome  retirement  within  the  walls  of  the  Palazzo  Pitti. 

Well  content  was  the  Medici  to  live  in  it,  ill  content 
to  exchange  it,  even  for  the  promised  threshold  of  Para- 
dise. A  good  little  sermon  here  suggests  itself,  of 
which  tlie  text  was  preached  long  ago,  "  For  where 
your  treasure  is,  there  will  your  heart  be  also."  And 
Medici's  investments  had  been  large  in  Pitti,  and  trifling 
in  Paradise ;  hence  the  difficulty  of  realizing  in  the 
latter.  \\'itliin  the  Pitti  Palace  arc  things  that  astonish 
the  world,  and  have  a  right  to  do  so,  as  have  all  the 
original  results  of  art.  The  paintings  are  all  —  so  to 
speak  —  set  on  doors  that  open  into  new  avenues  of 
thought  and  speculation  for  mankind.  The  ideal  world, 
of  which  the  real  is  but  a  poor  assertion,  has,  in  these 
glimpses,  its  truest  portraiture.  Their  use  and  dignity 
have   al.^o   limits  which  the   luxury  and   enthusiasm   of 


PALAZZO    PITTI. 


125 


mankind  transgress.  But  indispensable  were  they  in 
the  world's  humanization  and  civihzation :  that  is 
enough  to  say  of  them. 

O,  unseen  in  twenty-three  years,  and  never  to  be 
seen  again  with  the  keen  rehsh  of  youth.  What  have  I 
kept  of  you?  What  good  seed  from  your  abundant 
harvest  has  ripened  in  m}^  stony  corner  of  New  Eng- 
land ?  Your  forms  have  filled  and  beautified  the  blank 
pages  of  life,  for  every  life  has  its  actual  blanks,  which 
the  ideal  must  fill  up,  or  which  else  remain  bare  and 
profitless  forever.  And  you  are  here,  my  Seggiola,  and 
you,  my  Andreas  and  Peruginos  and  Raphael ;  and  Guer- 
cino's  woman  in  red  still  tenderly  clasps  the  knees  of 
the  dead  vSavior.  But  O  !  they  have  restored  this  pic- 
ture, and  daubed  the  faded  red  with  savage  vermilion. 

Scarcely  less  ungrateful  than  the  restoration  of  a 
beautiful  picture  is  the  attempt  to  restore,  after  the  busy 
intervals  of  travelling,  the  precious  impressions  made 
by  works  and  wonders  of  art.  The  incessant  labor  of 
sight-seeing  in  Florence  left  little  time  for  writing  up  on 
the  spot,  and  that  little  was  necessarily  given  to  record- 
ing the  then  recent  recollections  of  Naples  and  Rome. 
It  was  in  Venice  that  I  first  tried  to  overtake  the  subject 
of  Florence.  It  is  in  Trieste  that  I  sit  down  and  despair 
of  doing  the  poorest  justice  to  either.  My  meagre  notes 
must  help  me  out ;  but,  in  setting  them  down,  I  forgot 
how  rapidly  and  entirely  the  material,  of  which  they 
gave  the  outline,  would  disappear.  I  thought  that  I 
held  it,  so  far  as  mind  possession  goes,  forever.  At  the 
feast  of  the  gods  we  think  our  joys  eternal. 


136  KROM    THE    OAK    TO    TIHi    OI,IVI<:. 

On  reference  to  the  notes,  then,  I  llntl  that  the  best 
Andreas  and  Fra  Bartolomeos  are  to  be  fonnd  here,  and 
quite  a  number  of  them  in  the  Pitti.  Some  of  the 
first  Raphaels  also  are  here,  and  some  Titians.  The 
Seggiola  looked  to  me  a  little  dim  under  her  glass.  The 
Fates  of  Michael  Angelo  were  strong  and  sincere. 
Two  of  the  Andreas  arc  the  largest  I  remember,  and 
very  fmely  composed.  Each  represents  some  modifica- 
tion of  the  Madonna  and  Saints,  subjects  of  which  we 
grow  very  weary.  Yet  one  perceives  the  necessity  of 
these  pictures  at  the  time  in  which  they  were  painted. 
The  aesthetic  platform  of  the  time  would  have  tliem, 
and  accepted  little  else.  A  much  smaller  picture  shows 
us  the  heads  of  Andrea  and  his  beautiful  wife,  the  Lucia,, 
made  famous  by  Browning.  The  two  heads  look  a  little 
dim  now,  both  with  age,  and  one  with  sorrow.  Raphael's 
pictures,  seen  here  in  copious  connection  with  those  of 
his  predecessors,  appear  as  the  undoubted  culmination 
of  the  Florentine  school,  grandlv  drawn,  and  conceived 
with  the  subtlest  grace  and  spirit.  The  Florentine 
school,  as  compareil  with  others,  has  a  great  weight  of 
aesthetic  reason  behind  it.  It  reminds  me  of  some 
rare  writing  in  which  what  is  given  you  represents  much 
besides  itself.  The  best  Peruginos  share  this  merit,  so 
do,  in  a  ditVerent  manner,  the  works  of  Beato  Angclico, 
whose  wonderful  faces  deserve  their  gold  background. 
IIow  to  overtake  these  supreme  merits  in  the  regions  of 
prose  and  of  verse,  one  scarcely  knows.  By  combining 
bold  and  inunediate  conception  with  untiring  energy, 
imflinching   criiicisui,  and  a  nicety  that  stops  Ijefore  no 


PALAZZO    PITTI.  137 

palnfulness,  one   might  do   it.     Life  runs   like   a  centi- 
ped ;    one  dreams  of  being  an  artist,  and  dies. 

Here  it  may  not  be  amiss  for  me  to  recur  to  the  form 
of  my  diary,  whose  inartistic  jottings  will  best  give  the 
order  of  my  days  and  movements. 

Wednesday,  May  29.  —  Walked  to  Santa  Croce,  hear- 
ing that  a  mass  was  to  be  celebrated  there  for  the  Flor- 
entine victims  of  '48.  When  I  arrived,  the  mass  was 
nearly  over ;  the  attendance  had  been  very  numerous, 
and  we  found  many  people  still  there.  Near  the  high 
altar  were  wreaths  and  floral  trophies.  I  should  be  glad 
to  know  whether  the  priests  who  celebrated  this  mass 
did  so  with  a  good  will.  The  ideas  of  '48  are  the  dead- 
ly enemies  of  the  absolute  and  unbounded  assumptions 
of  the  Roman  papacy  and  priesthood.  I  hear  that  many 
of  the  priests  desire  a  more  liberal  construction  of  their 
office.  Would  to  God  it  might  be  so.  It  is  most  mourn- 
ful that  those  who  stand,  in  the  public  eye,  for  the 
religion  of  the  country,  should  be  pledged  to  a  course 
utterly  out  of  equilibrium  with  the  religious  ideas  of  the 
age.  Thus  religious  forms  contradict  the  spirit  and  es- 
sence of  religion,  and  the  established  fountain-heads  of 
improvement  shut  the  door  against  social  and  moral 
amelioration. 

In  Santa  Croce  we  hastily  visited  the  monument  erect- 
ed to  Alfieri  by  the  Countess  of  Albany,  and  the  tombs 
of  Alachiavelli,  Galileo,  and  Raphael  Morghen.  The 
last  has  a  mural  background  of  florid  marble,  of  a  light 
red  color,  with  a  recumbent  figure  in  white  marble,  and 
an  elaborate  medallion  of  the  same  material,  represent- 


128  rilOM    Tllli:    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

iiig  the  Madonna,  infant  and  saints.  I  fiillv  liopcd  and 
intended  to  ie\isit  this  venerable  and  interesting  church, 
but  was  never  able  to  do  so.  It  has  lately  received,  as 
all  the  world  knows,  a  fine  front  in  pure  white  marble, 
adorned  by  bas-reliefs  executed  by  the  popular  sculp- 
tor Fedi.  In  the  square  before  the  church  stands  the 
new  statue  of  Dante,  which  I  found  graceful,  but  not 
•grandiose,  nor  indeed  characteristic.  The  face  bears  no 
trace  of  the  great  poem  ;  the  awe  and  dignity  of  super- 
human visions  do  not  appear  in  its  lines.  He,  making 
hell  and  heaven  present  to  our  thoughts,  did  a  far  deep- 
er and  more  dilFicult  work  than  those  accomplished  who 
made  their  material  semblance  present  to  our  eyes. 

The  remainder  of  this  morning  wc  devoted  to  the 
gallery  of  the  Ullizi,  the  artistic  pendant  of  the  Pitti. 
We  hastily  make  its  circuit  with  a  friend  who  points  out 
to  us  the  portraits  of  Alfieri  and  the  Countess  of  Albany, 
his  lady  and  companion.  The  head  of  Allleri  is  bold 
and  striking,  the  hair  red,  the  tcnipcranicnt  sliowing 
more  of  the  northern  eneigy  than  of  the  southern  pas- 
sion. The  sobriety  of  his  works  and  laborious  charac- 
ter of  his  composition  also  evince  tliis.  The  countess, 
painted  from  mature  life,  shows  no  very  marked  charac- 
teristic. Ilers  is  the  face  ot  an  intelligent  woman,  but 
her  especial    charm  docs  not  appear  in  this  portrait. 

The  UOizi  collection  appears  to  have  been  at  once 
increased  and  rearranged  during  the  three  and  twenty 
years  of  our  absence.  We  find  the  Niobides  grouped  in 
an  ortler  ditferent  from  that  in  which  we  remember  them. 
The  portrait  gallery  of  modern   artists   is  for   us  a  new 


PALAZZO    PITTI.  129 

feature,  and  one  which,  alas !  we  have  not  time  to  study, 
seeing  that  the  great  c/iefs-d'wzevres  imperiously  challenge 
our  attention,  and  that  our  time  is  very  short  for  them. 
We  spend  a  dreamy  hour  in  the  Tribune,  whose  very 
circumscription  is  a  relief.  Here  we  are  not  afraid  of 
missing  anything.  This  eJzu'  of  gems  is  so  perfectly 
arranged  and  inventoried  that  the  absence  of  any  one  of 
them  would  at  once  be  perceived.  Here  stands  the 
Venus,  in  incomparable  nudity.  Here  the  Slave  still 
sharpens  his  instrument  —  the  classic  Boxers  hold  each 
other  in  close  struggle.  Raphael,  Correggio,  Michael 
Angelo,  Carlo  Dolce,  are  all  here  in  concentration.  You 
can  look  from  one  to  the  other,  and  read  the  pictorial 
language  of  their  dissents  and  arguments.  A  splendid 
Paul  Veronese,  in  half  figures,  merits  well  its  place 
here.  It  represents  a  Madonna  and  attendant  female 
saint:  the  hair  and  costumes  are  of  the  richest  Venetian 
type  ;  and  though  the  crinkles  of  the  one  and  the  stripes 
of  the  other  scarcely  suggest  the  fashions  of  Palestine, 
they  make  in  themselves  a  very  gorgeous  presentment. 
In  the  other  rooms  we  remember  some  of  the  finest 
Raphaels,  a  magnificent  Perugino,  Sodoma's  beautiful 
St.  Sebastian,  a  famous  Salutation  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth, 
by  Albertinelli,  a  very  tipsy  and  impudent  Silenus  by 
Rubens,  with  other  pictures  of  his  which  I  cannot  char- 
acterize. The  Vandykes  were  all  hung  too  high  to  be 
well  seen.  They  did  not  seem  nearly  so  fine  as  the 
Vandykes  in  the  Brignoli  Palace  in  Genoa.  Here  are 
some  of  Beato  Angelico's  finest  works,  among  others 
his  famous  triptych,  from  whose  bordering  of  miniature 

9 


130  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

angels  so  many  copies  are  constantly  made.  Here  is  also 
a  well-known  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  as  well  as  Raphael's 
portraits  of  Leo  Tenth,  attended  by  a  cardinal  and  an- 
other dignitary.  A  narrow  gallery  is  occnpied  by  nu- 
mcrons  marble  alto  relievos  by  Lnca  della  Robbia  and 
Donatello ;  here  is  also  a  marble  bas-relief  of  the 
Madonna  and  Child,  the  work  of  the  great  Michael. 

By  knocking  at  a  side  door  you  gain  admittance  into 
a  small  chamber,  whose  glass  cases  contain  works  of 
art  in  gold,  crystal,  and  precious  stones.  Here  is  a 
famous  cup,  upon  whose  cover  a  golden  Hercules  en- 
counters the  many  heads  of  the  Hydra,  brilliant  with 
varied  enamels,  the  work  of  Benvenuto  Cellini.  !Minia- 
ture  busts  in  agate  and  jasper,  small  columns  of  the 
same  materials,  —  these  are  some  of  the  features  which 
my  treacherous  memory  records.  It  has,  however,  let 
slip  most  of  what  is  precious  and  characteristic  in  this 
collection.  The  Uffizi  demands  at  least  a  week's  study 
for  even  the  slightest  sketch  of  its  contents.  We  had 
but  a  week  for  all  Florence,  and  tasted  of  the  great 
treasure  only  on  this  day,  and  a  subsequent  one  still 
more  hurried.  In  remembrance,  therefore,  we  can  only 
salute  it  with  a  free  confession  of  our  insufficiency. 

Thursday.  —  A  dies  non  for  the  galleries.  It  was 
a  Festa,  and  they  were  all  closed.  So  was  the  Bar- 
gello.  The  Boboli  gardens  were  not  open  till  noon, 
at  which  time  the  heat  made  them  scarcely  occupable. 
We  visited  the  Church  of  San  Michele,  which  was 
formerly  a  Loggia,  or  building  with  open  sides  and 
arches,  like  others  still  existing  in  various  parts  of  the 


PALAZZO    PITTI.  131 

city.  The  filling  up  of  these  open  arches  changed  it 
into  a  church.  They  tell  us  that  it  is  to  be  reconverted 
into  a  Loggia,  to  answer  the  present  necessities  of  the 
over-ci'owded  city.  Here  we  found  a  curious  taberna- 
cle, carved  in  marble  —  a  square  enclosure,  with  much 
detail  of  execution,  and,  on  the  whole,  a  Gothic  effect. 
Tombs,  monuments,  and  old  mosaic  pavement  this  tem- 
ple also  contains  ;  but  I  cannot  recall  its  details. 

The  afternoon  of  this  day  we  employed  partly  in  a  visit 
to  the  two  tombs  beside  which  American  feet  will  be 
sure  to  pause.  Here,  in  this  sculptured  sarcophagus, 
sleeps  the  dust  of  E.  B.  B.  Here,  beneath  this  granite 
cross,  lie  the  remains  of  Theodore  Parker.  At  the  first, 
I  seemed  to  hear  the  stifled  sobs  that  mourned  a  private 
sorrow  too  great  to  take  account  of  the  public  loss.  For 
what  she  gave  the  world,  rich  and  precious  as  it  was,  was 
less  than  that  inner,  unalienable  jewel  which  she  could 
not  give  but  in  giving  herself.  And  he  who  had  both,  the 
singer  and  her  song,  now  goes  through  the  world  inter- 
rogating the  ranks  of  womanhood  for  her  peer.  Seek 
it  not !     She  was  unique.     She  died  and  left  no  fellow. 

A  soberer  cortege^  probably,  followed  Theodore  to 
his  final  resting-place.  The  grief  of  poets  is  ecstatic, 
and  cannot  be  thought  of  without  dramatic  light  and 
shade,  imagined,  if  not  known  of.  A  sorrowing, 
patient  woman,  faithful  through  all  reverses,  stood 
beside  the  grave  of  the  great  preacher,  the  mighty  dis- 
putant. She  remembered  that  it  had  always  been  peace 
between  her  and  this  church  militant.  From  every 
raid,  every  foray,  into  the  disputed  grounds  of  theory  and 


132  FROM    TIIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

opinion,  she  kept  open  for  him  a  return  to  the  ortho- 
dox}' of  domestic  Hfe.  Tlic  basis  of  his  days  was  a 
cahn,  well-ordered  household,  whose  doors  were  opened 
or  shut  in  accordance  with  his  desire  of  the  moment. 
\Vould  he  receive  his  whole  congregation,  or  a  meet- 
ing of  the  clergy,  or  a  company  more  mixed  and  fash- 
ionable? The  simple,  well-appointed  rooms  were 
always  in  order ;  the  lights  were  always  clear  ;  the  car- 
pets swept ;  the  books  and  engravings  in  nice  order. 
The  staid  New  England  women-servants  brought  in 
the  refreshments,  excellent  of  their  kind,  and  carefully 
selected  for  their  suitableness  to  the  occasion.  The 
wife  sat  or  moved  unobtrusively  among  her  guests ; 
but  she  loved  Theodore's  fi  lends,  and  made  his  visitors 
welcome.  If  Theodore  had  war  without,  and  it  became 
his  business  to  have  it,  he  had  ever  peace  within.  And 
this  it  was  pleasant  and  exemplary  to  remember,  stand- 
ing beside  his  grave. 

How  often  have  I,  in  thought,  linked  these  two  graves 
together,  striving  to  find  a  middle  term  or  point  of 
meeting  for  them  both  !  The  distant  image  of  the  spot 
was  sacred  and  dear  to  me.  The  person  of  the  one,  the 
character  of  the  other,  were  fixed  among  my  afiections. 
For  let  me  say  here  that  though  I  have  criticised  Par- 
ker's theology,  adopting  neither  his  methods  nor  his 
conclusions,  of  Parker  himself  I  b.ave  never  ceased  to 
think  as  of  a  person  with  a  grand  and  earnest  scope, 
of  large  powers  and  generous  nature.  He  was  ten- 
der in  large  and  in  little,  a  sympathist  in  practice  as 
well    as    a    philanthropist    in    theorv.       M)'    heart    still 


VENICE.  133 

warms  and  exjoands  at  the  remembrance  of  what  he  was 
in  the  pulpit  and  at  the  fireside.  Nor  was  he  the  less  a 
stern  moralist  because  he  considered  the  ordinary  the- 
ories of  sin  as  unjust  and  insufficient.  No  one  would 
better  console  you  for  a  sin  deplored,  no  one  could  more 
forcibly  deprecate  a  sin  contemplated.  He  jDainted  his 
time  more  wicked  than  it  was,  and  saw  it  so.  A 
modern  Dante,  all  in  the  force  of  prose,  E.  B.  B.  lies 
here  like  the  sweet"  Beatrice,  who  was  at  hand  when 
the  cruel  task  of  criticism  was  over,  to  build  before  the 
corrected  vision  of  the  great  pilgrim  the  silvery  shrines 
and  turrets  of  the  New  Jerusalem.  So  will  we  leave 
them  —  a  lesser  Dante,  a  greater  Beatrice,  and  one  who 
has  borne  record  of  herself. 

Venice. 

Venice,  which  I  seek  to  hold  fast,  is  already  a  thing 
of  yesterday.  "  Haste  is  of  the  devil,"  truly  says  the 
Koran,  whose  prophet  yet  knew^  its  value.  But  the 
strokes  of  the  pen  need  deliberation  as  much  as  those 
of  the  sword  need  swiftness.  Strength  goes  with  Time, 
and  skill  against  him. 

Little  of  either  had  I  after  a  night  in  the  cars  between 
Florence  and  Venice,  —  hot,  dusty  Florence,  and  cool, 
glassy  Venice,  —  a  night  of  starts  and  stops,  morsels 
of  sleep  set  in  large  frames  of  uneasy  waking.  The 
steep  ascent  of  the  Apennines  is  only  partially  descried 
through  the  darkness.  It  begins  at  Pistoia,  and  when 
it  ends,  Pistoia  lies  vertically  under  you,  at  the  bottom 
of  what  seems  in  the  darkness  an  abvss,  in  which  its 


134  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OI.IVE. 

lights  shine  brightly.  Tunnels  there  are  in  plcnt\'  on 
this  road,  and  one  of  these  threatens  us  with  sullbcation. 
For  the  engine  was  unduly  replenished  with  coal  at 
Pistoia  in  view  of  the  hard  task  before  it,  and  the  undi- 
gested food  vented  itself  in  unwholesome  gases,  wdiich 
the  constraints  of  the  tunnel  drove  in  upon  us,  filling  the 
lungs  with  mephitic  stuff'  which  caused  them  to  ache 
for  more  than  an  hour  afterw'ards.  This  part  of  the 
journey  was  made  pleasant  to  us  by  the  presence  of  a 
Venetian  lady,  handsome,  intelligent,  and  cordial.  At 
Bologna  we  lost  her,  making  also  a  long  stop.  The 
hour  was  three  in  the  morning;  the  place,  a  bare  rail- 
road dejDot.  The  hour  passed  there  would  not  have 
been  patiently  endured  by  an  American  public.  But 
Italians  endure  every  possible  inconvenience  from  the 
railway  management,  which  is  clearly  conducted  on 
pessimistic  principles.  On  reaching  the  cars  again, 
another  pleasant  com2')anion  shortened  the  time  with  easy 
conversation.  Not  but  that  we  dozed  a  little  after  the 
weary  night;  and  the  priest  in  the  opposite  compart- 
ment fell  asleep  over  his  morning  prayers.  But  my 
new  companion  and  I  made  our  way  through  a  shoal 
of  general  remarks  to  the  terra  Jinna  of  a  mutual  ac- 
quaintance, in  whose  praises  both  of  us  grew  warm. 
And  at  length  we  began  to  see  marshes,  and  waters,  and 
a  fortress.  "■  That  is  Venice,"  said  the  captain  ;  and  I 
replied  with  sincere  surprise,  "Is  it  possible?"  For 
Venice,  as  approached  by  the  railroad,  makes  no  im- 
pression, presents  no  coup  iVccil.  And  this  marks  a 
precaution  for  which  the   devisers  of  railroad:;  in   this 


VENICE.  135 

country  may  deserve  praise.  Being  pure  men  of  business, 
and  not  sentimentalists,  they  do  not  wish  to  find  them- 
selves mixed  up  with  any  emotions  consequent  upon 
the  encounter  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful.  They  can- 
not become  responsible  for  any  enthusiasm.  And  so, 
in  their  entrances  and  exits,  they  sedulously  avoid  the 
picturesque,  and  lead  the  traveller  into  no  temptation 
towards  stopping  and  lingering  by  the  way.  Of  two 
possible  routes,  they,  on  principle,  choose  the  more 
prosaic ;  so  that  the  railroad  traveller  nowhere  gets 
less  beauty  for  his  mone}'  than  in  this  same  Italy,  the 
flower-garden  of  the  world. 

The  arrival  even  in  Venice  becomes,  therefore,  vul- 
gar and  commonplace  in  their  management.  And  soon 
one  gets  one's  luggage  out  of  the  clutches  of  guar- 
dians and  porters,  and  cheaply,  in  an  omnibus  gondola, 
one  swashes  through  a  great  deal  of  middling  water, 
landing  finally  at  Hotel  Barbesi,  where  breakfost  and 
the  appliances  of  repose  are  obtained. 

We  did  not  prudeutly  devote  this  first  day  to  sleep,  as 
we  ought  to  have  done.  The  energy  of  travel  was  still 
in  us,  and  we  aroused  ourselves,  and  went  forth.  The 
valet  de  place^  with  high  cheek-bones,  a  fresh  color, 
and  vivacious  eyes,  led  us  on  foot  to  the  Place  and 
Cathedral  of  St.  Mark,  the  Ducal  Palace,  the  Bridge 
of  Sighs,  and  prisons  of  the  condemned.  We  visited 
the  great  council-halls,  superb  with  fretted  gilding,  and 
endless  paintings  by  Tintoretto  and  Bellini.  We  saw 
the  Lion's  jSIouth,  into  which  anonymous  accusations 
were  dropped  ;   the  room  of  the  Ten  ;  the  staircase  all  in 


136  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THK    OLIVE. 

white  and  gold,  s.icrcd  to  the  feet  of  Doge  and  Doga- 
ressa  alone.  As  inagnilkent  as  is  tlic  palace,  so  miser- 
able are  the  prisons,  destitute  of  light,  and  almost  of 
air  —  a  series  of  small,  close  parallelograms,  with  a 
small  hole  for  a  window,  opening  only  into  a  dark  cor- 
ridor, containing  each  a  stony  elevation,  on  wliich, 
pcrliaps,  a  pallet  of  straw  was  placed.  Heaven  forbid 
that  the  blackest  criminal  of  our  day  should  confront  the 
justice  of  God  with  so  poor  a  report  to  make  of  the  mercy 
of  man  !  In  the  dreaminess  of  our  fatigue,  we  next 
visited  a  bead  factory,  and  inspected  some  of  its  delicate 
operations.  And  then  came  the  table  d'hote^  and  with 
it  a  little  whilT  of  toilet  and  hotel  breeding,  sufficiently 
irksome  and  distasteful.  In  the  evening  there  was  to  be 
a  Fresco,  or  procesison  of  gondolas  on  the  great  canal, 
with  lanterns  and  music,  in  honor  of  Prince  Plomplon, 
who  was  at  Danieli's  hotel.  Uncertain  whether  to  en- 
gage a  gondola  or  not,  I  sat  in  the  garden  balcony  of 
Barbesi's,  immediately  over  the  canal.  I  saw  the  gon- 
dolas of  high  society  flit  by,  gay  with  flags  and  colored 
lanterns,  the  gondoliers  in  full  livery.  Their  attitude  in 
rowing  is  singular.  They  stand  slanting  forward,  so 
that  one  almost  expects  to  see  thcni  fall  on  their  faces. 
In  the  gondola,  however,  one  becomes  aware  of  the 
skill  and  nicety  with  which  they  impel  and  guide  their 
weird-looking  vehicles. 

The  Fresco  was  to  be  at  nine  o'clock  ;  but  by  an  hour 
earlier  the  gondtilas  were  frequent.  And  soon  a  bark, 
with  lanterns  and  a  placard  announcing  an  associa- 
tion of  artists,  stopped   beneath   our  balcony,  while   its 


VENICE.  137 

occupants,  with  vigorous  lungs,  shouted  a  chorus  or 
two  in  the  Venetian  dialect.  The  effect  was  ■  good  ; 
but  when  one  of  the  singers  asked  for  a  '•'' piccola  bot- 
tiglia^''  and  proceeded,  hat  in  hand,  to  collect  from 
each  of  us  a  small  contribution,  w^e  felt  that  such  an 
act  was  rather  compromising  for  the  artists.  In  truth, 
these  men  were  artisans,  not  artists  ;  but  the  Italian  lan- 
guage has  but  one  word  for  the  two  meanings,  contriv- 
ing to  distinguish  them  in  other  ways. 

The  stream  of  gondolas  continued  to  thicken  on  the 
canal,  and  at  nine  o'clock,  or  thereabouts,  a  floating 
theatre  made  its  appearance  —  a  large  platform,  bril- 
liantly lighted,  and  bearing  upon  it  a  numerous  orches- 
tra and  chorus.  The  chef  d'orchestre  was  clearly 
visible  as  he  passed,  energetically  dividing  the  melody 
and  uniting  the  performers.  This  lovely  music  floated 
up  and  down  the  quiet  waters,  many  lesser  lights  clus- 
tering around  the  greater  ones.  Comparison  seems  to 
be  the  great  trick  of  descriptive  writing ;  but  I,  for  my 
part,  cannot  tell  what  the  Fresco  was  like.  It  was  like 
nothing  that  I  have  ever  seen. 

And  I  saw  it  in  the  intervals  of  a  leaden  stupor ;  for, 
after  the  sleepless  night  and  active  day,  the  quiet  of 
Barbesi's  balcony  was  too  much  for  me.  Fain  would 
I  have  hired  a  gondola,  have  gone  forth  to  follow  the 
musical  crusade,  albeit  that  to  homage  a  Napoleon  be 
small  business  for  an  American.  But  by  a  new  sort  of 
centaurship,  my  chair  and  I  were  that  evening  one,  and 
the  idea  of  dividing  the  two  JDresented  itself  only  in  the 
light  of  an  impossibility.     Roused  by  the  exclamations 


I3S  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

of  those  about  mc,  I  awoke  from  time  to  time,  and  me- 
chanically took  note  of  what  I  have  here  described, 
returning  to  sleep  again,  until  a  final  wrench,  like  the 
partition  of  soul  and  body,  sent  me  with  its  impetus  to 
the  end  of  all  days  —  bed. 

The  fatigue  of  this  day  made  itself  severely  felt  in  the 
waking  of  the  next  morning.  Shaking  ofl'  a  deadly 
stupor  and  dizziness,  I  arose  and  armed  for  the  day's 
warfare.  My  first  victim  was  the  American  consul, 
who,  at  the  sight  of  a  formidable  letter  of  introduction, 
surrendered  at  discretion.  Annexing  the  consul,  I  bore 
him  in  triumph  to  my  gondola,  but  not  until  I  had  in- 
duced him  to  find  me  a  lodging,  which  he  did  speedily; 
for  of  Barbesi  and  manv  francs  per  die?n  I  had  already 
enough,  and  preferred  charities  nearer  home  to  that  of 
enriching  him.  I  do,  moreover,  detest  hotel  life,  and 
the  black-coated  varlets  that  settle,  like  so  many  flies, 
upon  your  smallest  movement.  I  have  more  than  once 
intrenched  myself  in  my  room,  determining  to  starve 
there  rather  than  summon  in  the  imps  of  the  bell.  \Vith 
the  consul's  aid,  which  was,  I  must  say,  freely  given,  I 
secured  to  myself  the  disposal  of  a  snug  bedroom  and 
parlor,  with  a  balcony  leading  into  a  music-haunted 
garden,  full  of  shiny  foliage,  mostly  lemon  and  myrtle 
trees,  having  also  a  convenient  access  to  the  grand  canal. 
After  this,  we  proceeded  to  the  Church  of  the  Frari,  rich 
with  the  two  monuments  of  Titian  and  Canova.  Both 
are  architectural  as  well  as  sculptural.  That  of  Canova 
is  a  repetition  of  his  own  model,  executed  in  the  well- 
known  Vienna  monument,  with  the  addition,  I  thought, 


VENICE.  139 

of  a  winged  lion  and  one  or  two  figures  not  included  in 
the  other.  The  monument  of  Titian  stands  opposite  to 
that  already  described.  The  upper  portion  of  it  pre- 
sents a  handsome  facade  enclosed  in  three  arches,  each 
of  which  contains  a  bas-relief  of  one  of  his  great  pic- 
tures. The  middle  one  presents  the  Assumption,  in 
sculpture  ;  that  on  the  right  the  Entombment  of  Christ ; 
that  on  the  left  the  vSt.  Peter  Martyr  —  the  picture  itself 
being  in  the  sacristy  of  the  Church  of  Santi  Giovanni 
e  Paolo.  The  Frari  also  contains  a  curious  and  elab- 
orate monument  to  a  doge  whose  name  I  forget.  Above 
sits  the  doge  in  his  ducal  chair  ;  below,  four  black  slaves 
clad  in  white  marble,  their  black  knees  showing  througli 
their  white  trousers,  support  the  upper  part  of  the  monu- 
ment upon  their  heads.  Two  bronze  Deaths,  between 
the  doge  and  the  slaves,  bear  each  a  scroll  in  white 
marble,  with  long  inscriptions,  which  we  did  not  read. 
The  choir  was  adorned  with  the  usual  row  of  seats, 
richly  carved  in  black  walnut.  From  this  rich  and 
interesting  temple  we  passed  to  the  Academia  delle 
belle  Arti. 

This  institution  contains  many  precious  and  beautiful 
works  of  art.  The  Venetian  school  is,  however,  to  the 
Florentine  much  as  Rossini's  Barbiere  to  Dante's  Divi- 
na  Commedia.  Here  all  is  color,  vitality,  energy.  The 
superabundance  of  life  and  of  temperament  does  not 
allow  the  severer  deliberations  of  thoughtful  art.  The 
finest  picture  of  this  school,  the  Assumption  of  Titian, 
is  the  intense  embodiment  of  the  present,  an  ideal 
moment  that  presupposes  no  antecedent  and  no  succes- 


140  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE, 

sor.  It  is  as  startling  as  a  sudden  vision.  But  it  is 
a  vision  of  life,  not  of  paradise.  The  Madonna  is  a 
grand,  simple,  human  woman,  whose  attitude  is  more 
rapt  than  her  expression.  vSlie  stands  in  the  middle  of 
tlie  picture,  upon  a  mass  of  clouds,  which  two  pendent 
cherubs  dcliciously  loop  up.  Above,  the  Eternal  Fa- 
ther, wonderfully  foreshortened,  looks  down  upon  her. 
Beneath,  the  apostles  are  gazing  at  the  astonishing  rev- 
elation. All  is  in  the  strongest  drawing,  the  most  vig- 
orous coloring.  Yet  the  pale-eyed  Raphaels  have  more 
of  the  inward  heaven  in  them.  For  this  is  a  dream  of 
sunset,  not  of  transfiguration.  So  great  a  work  of  art 
is,  however,  a  boon  beyond  absolute  criticism.  Like  a 
precious  personality,  its  value  settles  the  account  of  its 
being,  however  widely  it  may  depart  from  the  standard 
recognized  in  other  things. 

In  the  same  hall  is  the  last  work  of  Titian,  a  Pieta, 
or  figure  of  the  dead  Christ  upon  his  mother's  knees. 
This  picture  is  so  badly  placed  that  its  effects  can  only 
be  inferred,  absolute  glare  and  darkness  putting  out  its 
light  and  shade.  Far  from  the  joyous  allegro  of  Titian's 
characteristic  style,  the  coloring  presents  a  greenish 
pallor,  rather  negative  and  monotonous.  The  composi- 
tion of  the  picture  is  artistic,  tonic,  and  harmonious;  its 
expression  high  and  pathetic.  The  ebbing  tide  of  the 
great  master's  vitality  left  this  pearl  on  the  shore  of 
time. 

The  Presentation  of  the  Virgin  in  the  Temple,  by 
Titian,  is  another  of  the  famous  pictures  in  this  collec- 
tion.     The  Virgin   is  represented   as  a  maiden  of  ten 


VENICE.  141 

years,  ascending  the  steps  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem. 
The  figure  and  the  steps  are  both  of  them  seen  in  pro- 
file. Her  pale-blue  dress  is  relieved  by  an  oblong  glory 
which  surrounds  her  from  head  to  foot.  JSIore  fomous 
is  a  large  Paul  Veronese,  representing  Christ  at  supper 
in  the  house  of  the  Pharisee.  The  richness  of  the 
Venetian  costumes,  the  vigor  and  vitality  of  the  figures, 
give  this  picture  its  great  charm.  It  is  no  nearer  to 
Christ  and  Jerusalem  "  than  I  to  Hercules."  A  large 
painting  by  a  French  artist,  in  this  hall,  replaces  the 
great  Paul  Veronese  taken  to  Paris  by  Napoleon  I., — 
the  Cena,  —  and,  to  my  mind,  replaces  it  very  poorly. 
The  huge  paintings  of  Tintoretto  are  among  the  things 
that  amaze  one  in  Venice.  How  one  hand,  guided  by 
one  brain,  could,  in  any  average  human  life,  have  cov- 
ered such  enormous  spaces  of  canvas,  is  a  problem  and 
a  puzzle.  The  paintings  themselves  are  full  of  vigor, 
color,  and  variety.  But  one  naturally  values  them  less 
on  account  of  their  great  number.  Of  course,  in  the 
style  of  Raphael  or  Perugino,  a  single  life  could  not 
have  produced  half  of  them.  The  Venetian  school 
is  sketchy,  and  its  figures  often  have  more  toilet  than 
anatomy. 

I  am  almost  ashamed  to  speak  of  these  pictures  at  all, 
since  I  speak  of  them  so  inadequately.  Yet,  gentle 
reader,  all  is  not  criticism  that  criticises,  all  is  not 
enthusiasm  that  admires.  Copious  treatises  are  written 
on  these  subjects  by  people  who  know  as  little  of  them 
as  is  possible  for  a  person  of  average  education.  Amer- 
cans   have  especially  to   learn   that  a  general  tolerable 


143  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

intelligence  does  not  give  a  man  special  knowledge  in 
matters  of  art.  Among  the  herd  of  trans-Atlantic  trav- 
ellers who  yearly  throng  these  galleries,  they  know  most 
who  pretend  least  to  know. 

A  brief  interval  of  rest  and  dinner  enabled  us  to  visit 
the  Armenian  Convent  at  San  Lazzaro.  For  this  excur- 
sion two  rowers  were  requisite.  Starting  at  five  P.  M., 
we  reached  the  convent  in  half  an  hour.  It  stands  upon 
an  island  which  its  walls  and  enclosures  fill.  The 
porter  opens  to  us.  We  have  a  letter  of  introduction 
from  Ex-Consul  Ilowills  to  Padre  Giacomo,  and  bring 
also  a  presentation  copy  of  the  late  consul's  work  on 
Venice.  The  padre  receives  us  w  ith  courteous  gravity. 
We  make  acquaintance  with  his  monkey  before  we 
make  acquaintance  with  him.  The  monkey  leaps  on 
the  neophyte's  hat,  tears  off  a  waxen  berry,  and  eats  it. 
His  master  thoughtfully  leads  us  through  the  dreamy 
rooms  and  passages  of  the  convent.  Here  is  the  room 
that  Byron  occupied  ;  here  is  his  name,  written  in  Ar- 
menian in  his  own  hand.  Here  also  is  Prince  Plon- 
plon's  name,  written  by  iiim  in  the  book  of  illustrious 
visitors.  After  showing  it,  the  padre  oOers  another 
book,  for  commonplace  \  isitors,  in  whicii  he  invites  me 
to  enter  my  name :  I  humbly  comply.  We  visit  the 
cliapel,  which  is  handsome,  and  the  pleasant  garden. 
The  printing  establisiiment  interests  us  most.  These 
Armenian  fathers  are  great  polyglots,  and  print  books 
in  a  variety  of  languages.  Padre  Giacomo,  who  speaks 
good  English,  shows  us  an  Armenian  translation  of 
Napoleon's  Life  of  Julius  Ca-sar,  which  we  are  surprised 


VENICE.  143 

and  rather  sorry  to  see.  We  afterwards  hear  it  sug- 
gested that  the  expense  of  this  work  has  probably  been 
borne  by  the  French  emperor  himself,  with  a  view  to 
the  Eastern  question.  Among  the  antiquities  of  the 
convent  we  find  a  fine  Armenian  manuscript  of  the 
fourth  century  ;  among  its  modern  curiosities,  a  book  of 
prayers  in  thirty  languages.  In  the  refectory  is  a  pul- 
pit, from  which  one  monk  reads  aloud,  while  the  others 
dine.  Connected  with  this  convent  is  a  college  for  the 
education  of  Armenian  youths,  either  for  the  priesthood 
or  for  active  life.  Another  institution,  in  Venice  prop- 
er, receives  from  this  those  scholars  who  decide  upon 
an  ecclesiastical  profession.  Padre  Giacomo  had  al- 
ready bought  Consul  Howill's  book  for  the  convent 
library.  He  led  us,  lastly,  into  a  small  room,  in  which 
are  kept  the  publications  of  the  convent,  to  be  sold  for 
its  benefit.  Here  we  made  a  few  purchases,  and  took 
leave,  trusting  to  see  Padre  Giacomo  again. 

One  of  my  earliest  acts  in  Venice,  after  the  first  pre- 
liminaries of  living,  was  to  get  from  a  circulating  library 
the  first  volume  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  Stones  of  Venice.  I 
have  never  been  a  reader  of  Mr.  Ruskin,  and  my  posi- 
tion towards  him  is  that  of  an  outside  unbeliever.  I  shun 
his  partisans  and  disbelieve  his  theories.  The  title  of  this 
book,  however,  seemed  to  promise  a  key  to  the  archi- 
tectural mysteries  of  the  mirror  city,  and  I,  taking  him 
at  his  word,  reached  out  eagerly  after  the  same.  But 
Mr.  Ruskin's  key  opens  a  great  many  preliminary  doors 
before  admitting  you  to  the  point  desired,  and  my  one 
busy  vvreek  was  far  too  short  to  follow  the  intricacies  of 


144  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

his  persuasions.  I  coukl  easily  see  that  the  book,  right 
or  wrong,  would  add  to  the  pleasure  and  interest  of  in- 
vestigating the  city.  ISlr.  Ruskin  is  an  author  who  gives 
to  his  readers  a  great  deal  of  thought  and  of  study.  Ilis 
very  positive  mode  of  statement  has  this  advantage  ;  it 
sums  up  one  side  of  the  matter  so  exhaustively  as  to 
make  comparatively  easy  the  construction  of  the  oppo- 
site argument,  and  the  final  decision  between  the  two. 
Yet,  while  the  writer's  zeal  and  genius  lead  us  to  follow 
his  reasonings  with  interest,  and  often  with  pleasure,  his 
judgment  scarcely  possesses  that  weight  and  impartial- 
ity which  would  lead  us  to  acquiesce  in  his  decisions. 
Those  who  fully  yield  to  his  individual  charm  adopt  and 
follow  his  opinions  to  all  extremes.  This  already  shows 
his  power.  But  they  scarcely  become  as  wise  as  do 
those  who  resist,  and  having  fully  heard  him,  continue 
to  obser%^e  and  to  think  for  themselves.  And  as,  in  Cole- 
ridge's well-known  lines,  anxiety  is  expressed  as  to  the 
human  agency  that  can  cleanse  the  River  Rhine  when 
that  river  has  cleansed  the  city  of  Cologne,  we  must  con- 
fess that  our  expectations  always  desire  tlic  man  who 
shall  criticise  Mr.  Ruskin,  when  he  has  criticised  to  his 
full  extent.  For  there  is  one  person  whom  he  cannot 
criticise,  and  that  is  himself.  To  do  this  would  involve 
a  deliberation  of  thought,  an  exactness  of  style,  to  which 
even  Mr.  Ruskin  cannot  pretend. 

\V'ith  his  help,  however,  1  did  observe  the  two  gran- 
ite columns  in  die  Piazzetta,  to  whose  shafts  he  gives 
fifteen  feet  of  circumference,  and  to  their  octagonal 
bases  fifty-six,  a  discrepancy   exceeding  the  dillerence 


VENICE.  145 

which  the  eye  would  measure.  But  he  certainly  ought 
to  know.  And  1  found  also  the  columns  brought  from 
St.  Jean  d'Acre,  which  are,  as  he  docs  not  mention, 
square,  and  of  a  dark  marble,  with  Oriental  capitals 
and  adornments.  And  I  sought  out,  in  the  church  of 
SS.  Giov.  e  Paolo,  two  dogal  monuments,  of  which  he 
praises  one  and  criticises  the  other  with  stress.  The 
one  praised  is  that  of  Doge  Mocenigo  ;  the  other,  that 
of  Doge  Vendramin.  I  did  not  find  in  cither  a  signifi- 
cance to  warrant  the  extensive  notice  he  gives  them. 
Having  learned,  with  great  satisfaction,  that  the  artist 
of  the  monument  which  "dislikes"  him  was  afterwards 
exiled  from  Venice  for  forgery,  he  proceeds  to  speak  of 
"  this  forger's  work,"  allowing  no  benefit  of  doubt. 
And  this  was  my  account  with  Mr.  Ruskin,  so  far  as 
the  Stones  of  Venice  are  concerned  ;  for  time  so  short- 
ened, and  objects  so  multiplied,  that  I  was  constrained 
thereafter  to  dispense  with  his  complicated  instruments 
of  vision,  and  to  look  at  things  simply  with  my  own 
eyes. 

We  made  various  visits  to  the  Cathedral  of  San  Marco, 
whose  mosaic  saints,  on  gold  backgrounds,  greet  you 
in  the  portico  with  delight.  The  church  is  very  rich 
in  objects  of  art  and  in  antiquities.  It  has  columns 
from  Palestine,  dogal  monuments,  tessellated  pavements, 
in  endless  variety.  But  the  mosaics  in  the  sacristy  were 
for  me  its  richest  treasure.  They  comprise  the  consci- 
entious labors  mentioned  by  George  Sand,  in  her  Mai- 
tres  Mosaistes.  The  easy  arch  of  the  ceiling  allows 
one  to  admire  them  without  the  painful  straining  usu- 
10 


146  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

ally  entailed  by  the  study  of  fresco  or  other  ceillr.g 
adornment.  In  a  small  chapel  \vc  were  shown  a  large 
baptismal  font  brought  from  Palestine,  and  the  very 
stone  on  which  John  Baptist's  head  was  cut  off! 

We  went  in,  one  Sunday,  hoping  to  sec  the  fan>ous 
palle  iVoro^  an  altar-covering  in  massive  gold,  exhibited 
only  on  rare  Festas,  of  which  this  day  was  one.  But 
while  we  wedged  ourselves  in  among  the  crowd,  one. 
of  our  parly  descried  a  boy  witli  the  pustules  of  small 
pox  still  fresh  upon  his  face.  We  fled  in  precipitation, 
marvelling  at  the  sanitary  negligence  which  allows  such 
exposures  to  take  place  at  the  public  risk. 

We  visited  the  Church  of  the  Scalzi  (Barefooted 
Friars),  and  found  it  very  rich  in  African  and  other 
marbles.  It  boasts  some  splendid  columns  of  iicro  aii- 
tlco.  One  of  the  side  chapels  has  four  doors  executed 
in  Oriental  alabaster,  together  with  simulated  hangings 
in  rosso  antico^  the  fringe  being  carved  in  giallo.  An- 
other was  adorned  with  oval  slabs  of  jasper,  very  beau- 
tiful in  color  and  in  polish.  The  ceiling,  painted  in 
fresco  by  Tiepolo,  was  full  of  light  and  airy  grace. 

From  this,  we  went  to  the  Church  of  the  Gesuiti,  in 
high  repute  for  the  richness  of  its  adornments.  We 
found  it  a  basilica,  its  sides  divided  by  square  piers,  and 
the  whole  interior,  piers  and  walls,  covered  with  a  dam- 
asked pattern  wrought  in  vcrd  antic |ue  upon  a  ground 
of  white  marble.  The  capitals  of  the  piers  were  heav- 
ily gilded.  The  baldecchino  of  the  high  altar  was 
dome-shaped,  and  covered  on  the  outside  with  a  scol- 
loped   jjattern    in  vertl    aiiti(iuc.    each    scollop   having  a 


VENICE.  147 

slender  bordering  of  white  marble.  The  buldeccliino 
is  supported  by  four  twisted  columns  formed  of  small 
rounded  pieces  of  verd  antique  closely  joined  together. 
The  pulpit  has  a  heavy  marble  drapery,  with  simulated 
fringe,  all  in  the  pattern  already  mentioned.  The  whole 
is  more  luxurious  than  beautiful.  Its  art  bears  no  pro- 
portion to  its  expense.  To  those  who  think  of  the  Jesu- 
its in  general  as  I  do,  it  will  hardly  stand  as  a  monu- 
ment of  saintly  service  and  simplicity.  Near  the  high 
altar  rest  the  ashes  of  the  last  Doge  of  Venice.  The 
spot  is  designated  by  a  simple  slab,  forming  part  of  the 
pavement.  On  it  is  written,  '•'' ^^ternitate  suce  Maiiini 
cineres." 

We  visited  two  very  good  collections  of  antiquities, 
in  one  of  which  we  found  the  door  of  the  Bucen- 
taur,  and  its  banner  of  crimson  silk,  with  gilded  de- 
signs. Here  were  portiaits  of  doges,  curious  arms, 
majolicas,  and  old  Venetian  glass,  much  finer  than  that 
of  the  preseut  day.  Here  also  are  collected  many 
relics  of  Canova,  the  most  interesting  of  which  are  the 
small  designs  for  his  great  works.  Over  the  door  of 
this  museum  stands  a  pathetic  inscription  to  the  eficct 
that  IMichel  Cqrrer,  "  vedendo  cadcre  la  f  atria"  had 
collected  here  many  things  of  patriotic  and  historical 
interest. 

But  these  prosaic  recounts  are  only  the  record  of 
actual  steps.  The  charm,  the  delight  of  Venice  they 
do  not  and  cannot  express.  My  recollections  of  the 
city  invest  her  with  a  solemn  and  stately  personality.  I 
did  not  see  her  bowed  beneath  the  Austrian  yoke,  be- 


14S  FROM    TIIK    OAK    TO    Tllli:    OLIVK. 

traycd,  ])iit  not  sokl,  rcfiisiiig  to  be  cajolctl  and  coinfort- 
ctl.  That  cloud  was  icniovcd.  The  shops  were  busy  and 
prosperous,  the  streets  thronged  with  people,  the  canals 
gay  with  gondolas,  bearing  also  barges  and  large  and 
small  boats  of  very  various  patterns.  The  Piazza  was 
lillctl  at  night  with  social  groups  of  people,  less  child- 
ish, methought,  than  other  Italians,  and  with  a  more 
visible  purpose  in  them.  Still,  the  contrast  of  the  past 
and  present,  no  longer  shameful  and  agonizing,  was  full 
of  melancholy.  Venice  can  never  be  what  she  has 
been.  The  present  world  has  no  room  for  a  repetition 
of  her  former  career.  But  she  can  be  a  prosperous  and 
happy  Christian  commonwealth,  with  her  offices  and 
dignities  vested  in  her  own  sons,  with  education  and 
i:)olitical  rights  secured  to  all  her  children.  And  this  is 
better,  in  the  present  day,  than  to"  be  the  tyrant  of  one 
half  of  the  world,  the  fear  and  admiration  of  the  other. 
For  Peace,  now,  with  open  hands,  bestows  the  bless- 
ings which  War  formerly  compelled  with  iron  grasp 
and  frowning  brow.  Tiie  true  compulsion  now  is  to 
compel  the  world  to  have  need  of  you,  by  the  excellence 
of  your  service.  Industry  lias  a  deeper  mine  of  wealth 
than  piracy  or  plunder  can  ever  open.  A  man's  success 
is  in  strict  proportion  to  his  use  ;  and  the  servant  of  all 
is  the  master  of  all.  So  the  new  Venice  for  which  I 
look  is  to  be  no  more  like  the  old  Venice  than  the  new 
Jerusalem  will  be  like  the  city  of  David.  Moral  gran- 
deur must  make  her  great.  Justice  must  make  her 
people  ha|)py.  And  so  beautiful  and  delightful  is  she, 
that  I  caiuiot  help  echoing   the   Psalmist's   exclamation, 


VENICE.  149 

"Pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem  !  They  shall  prosper 
who  love  thee  !  " 

A  wash  of  waters,  a  play  of  lights,  a  breeze  that  cools 
like  theperfumed  water  of  the  Narguile,  a  constant  inter- 
change of  accents  musically  softened  from  the  soft  Ital- 
ian itself,  which  seems  hard  in  comparison  with  them  ; 
rows  of  palaces  that  have  swallowed  their  own  story  ; 
churches  modelled  upon  the  water  like  wax-flowers 
upon  a  mirror  ;  balconies  with  hangings  of  yellow-brown 
and  white  ;  dark  canals,  that  suggest  easy  murders  and 
throwing  over  of  victims  ;  music  on  the  water  ;  robust 
voices,  of  well-defined  character ;  columns  and  arches, 
over  which  Mr.  Ruskin  raves,  and  which  for  him  are 
significant  of  religion  or  irreligion ;  resolute-looking 
men  and  women  ;  a  world  of  history  and  legend  which 
he  who  has  to  live  in  to-day  can  scarcely  afford  time 
to  decipher,  —  this  is  Venice  as  I  have  seen  her,  and 
would  see  her  again.  Rejoice,  O  sister  cities,  that  she 
is  free.  Visit  her  with  your  golden  rain,  O  travellers  ; 
with  your  golden  sympathy,  O  poets  !  Enrich  her,  com- 
merce !  Protect  her,  Christian  faith  of  nations,  for  she 
is  free  —  free  ! 

To  me  she  is  already  a  recollection.  For  after  the 
days  of  which  I  have  so  briefly  told,  a  far  summons 
carried  me  to  an  elder  land,  a  more  mournful  mystery. 
Looking,  but  not  loving  my  last,  I  packed  the  wearisome 
trunk,  paid  for  the  nights  and  dinners,  owing  little  else 
at  my  lodging.  A  certain  nightingale,  who,  at  eight 
precisely  every  morning,  broke  in  upon  my  slumbers 
with  delicious  singing,  did  not  figure  in  the  bill.     But 


150  FltOM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

reniciiibcriiig  his  priceless  song.  I  almost  regiet  my  ob- 
jections to  certain  items  set  clown  in  the  account 
against  me.  And  I  had  a  last  row  in  the  gondola,  and 
a  last  ice  in  the  Piazzetta,  and,  last  of  all,  a  midnight 
embarkation  on  board  the  Austrian  steamer  for  Trieste. 
Farewell,  Sebastiano,  my  trusty  gondolier.  I  shall  not 
liear  you  cry,  "  Oh,  juinc  "  (giovinc)  again.  I  seethe 
line  of  the  Piazzctta,  dcllncd  by  the  lamps.  Brightly 
may  thev  burn  ;  glad  be  the  hearts  that  beat  near  them. 
And  now  they  are  all  out  of  sight,  and  the  one  outside 
light  is  disappearing,  too.  Farewell,  wonderful  Venice. 
Tiiou  wert  painfully  gotten  together,  no  doubt,  like  other 
dwelling-places  of  man.  Thou  camest  of  toiling  and 
moiling,  planning,  digging,  and  stone-breaking.  But 
thou  lookest  to  have  risen  from  the  waters  like  a  dream. 
And  til  is  wholeness  of  ellect  makes  thee  a  great  work 
of  art,  not  henceforth  to  be  plundered  by  the  powerful 
ones  of  the  earth,  but  to  be  cherished  by  the  lovers  of 
beauty,  studied  by  the  lovers  of  art. 

I  will  return  upon  my  steps  to  mention  one  feature  in 
the  new  Venice,  a  small  and  obscure  one,  whose  signili- 
cance  greatly  interested  me.  Having  hcartl  of  a  Prot- 
estant Italian  congregation  in  the  neighborhood  of  one 
of  the  great  Catholic  temples,  I  turned  my  steps  one 
evening  towards  one  of  its  meetings,  and  found,  in  a 
large  up[)er  chamber,  a  numerous  assemblage  of  Ital- 
ians of  various  grades,  chiefly  people  of  the  poorer 
class,  who  listened  with  attention  to  a  fervent  address 
from  a  voung  clergvman  of  their  own  nation.  The  dis- 
course   had    much   of  the    spirit  of  religion,  litde  of  its 


VENICE.  151 

technic,  and  was  thereby,  I  thought,  the  better  adapted 
to  the  feeling  of  the  congregation,  A  sj^rinkling  of  well- 
dressed  men  was  observable.  A  prayer  followed  the 
discourse,  in  which  the  auditors  joined  with  a  hearty 
amen.  This  little  kernel  of  Protestantism,  dropped  in  a 
field  so  new,  gave  me  the  assurance  of  the  presence  of 
one  of  the  most  important  elements  in  the  progress  and 
prosperity  of  any  state,  to  wit,  that  of  religious  liberty. 
It  is  quite  true  that  the  sects  under  whose  protection 
the  Protestant  Venetian  church  has  sprung  up  —  the 
Scotch  and  Swiss  Presbyterians  —  can  in  no  sense  be 
considered  as  exponents  of  liberal  ideas  in  religion.  Cal- 
vinism, per  se^  is  as  absolute  as  Catholicism,  and  as  cruel. 
The  Calvinistic  hell  is  but  an  adjourned  Inquisition,  in 
which  controversialists  have  as  great  satisfaction  in  tor- 
menting the  souls  of  their  opponents  as  Torquemada 
had  in  tormenting  their  bodies.  Yet  Calvinism  itself  is 
a  rough  and  barbaric  symbolization  of  great  truths 
which  the  discipline  of  Catholicism  tended  ever  more 
and  more  to  distance  from  the  efficient  lives  of  men.' 
The  principle  of  individual  responsibility,  the  impossi- 
bility of  moral  action  without  religious  libert}-,  the  in- 
ward character  of  religious  acts  and  experiences,  in  con- 
tradistinction to  the  precepts  and  practice  of  a  religion 
which  had  become  all  form,  all  observance.  These 
ideas,  gathered  together  by  a  vigorous  mind,  and  made 
efficient  by  the  constitution  of  a  sect  or  party,  were 
capable  of  regenerating  modern  Europe,  and  did  so.  For 
it  will  be  found  that  all  of  its  Protestant  piety  ran  within 
the  bounds  of  this  somewhat  narrow  channel.     But  even 


152  FROM    THK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

here,  the  Hl)crah/,iiig  inlUicnces  of  time  arc  irresistible, 
and  although  tlie  cruel  and  insuflicient  doctrines  are 
still  subscribed  to  by  zealous  millions,  the  practice  and 
culture  of  the  church  itself  become  more  and  more  lib- 
eral. The  zeal  for  propagandism,  which  characterizes 
the  less  tolerant  portion  of  the  Protestant  sects,  makes 
their  ministration  on  new  ground  efficient  and  valuable. 
The  material  hell,  froin  which,  in  good  faith,  they  seek 
to  deliver  those  who  hear  them,  symbolizes  the  infinite 
danger  and  loss  to  man  of  a  life  passed  without  the  im- 
pulses and  restraints  of  religion.  A  more  philosophic 
statement  would  be  far  less  tangible  to  the  minds  alike 
of  teacher  and  disciple.  Their  intervention  in  commu- 
nities characterized  by  a  low  grade  of  religious  culture 
is  therefore  useful,  perhaps  indispensable.  And  while 
I  value  and  prize  my  own  religious  connections  beyond 
aught  else,  I  am  thankful  to  the  American  missions  that 
support  Waldense  preaching  in  Italy.  They  at  least 
teach  that  a  man  is  to  think  for  himself,  pray  for  him- 
self; and  their  worship,  even  when  ruilest  and  most  un- 
cultured, is  more  an  instruction  of  the  multitude  than  a 
propitiation  of  the  inilnite  love  which  is  always  ready 
to  do  for  us  more  and  better  than  we  can  ask. 

So,  little  Protestant  congregation  in  Venice,  my  heart 
bids  you  God  speed  !  But  may  the  love  of  God  be 
preached  to  you  rather  than  the  torment  of  fear,  and  may 
the  simplicity  and  beauty  of  the  Christian  doctrine  and 
example  preserve  you  alike  from  the  passional  and  the 
metaphysical  dangers  of  the  day. 


greece  and  the  voyage  thither.  1 53 

Greece  and  the  Voyage  thither. 

"  in  a  transition  state." 

We  have  left  Venice.  We  have  passed  an  intolerable 
night  on  board  the  Austrian  steamer,  whose  state-rooms 
are  without  air,  its  cabin  without  quiet,  and  its  deck 
without  shelter.  So  inconvenient  a  transport,  in  these 
days  of  steamboat  luxury,  makes  one  laugh  and  wonder. 
Trieste,  our  stopping-place,  is  the  strangest  mongrel,  a 
perfect  cur  of  a  city  (cur-i-o-sity).  It  is  neither  Italian, 
Greek,  nor  German,  but  all  three  of  these,  and  many 
more.  The  hotel  servants  speak  German  and  Italian, 
the  shop-keepers  also.  Paper  money  passes  without 
fight  or  ag-'io  upon  the  prices  demanded.  It  seems  to  be 
par,  with  gold  and  silver  at  a  premium.  Much  Oriental- 
looking  merchandise  is  seen  in  the  shop  windows.  The 
situation  is  fine,  the  port  first  rate. 

Our  consul  here,  Mr.  Alex.  Thayer,  is  the  author  of  the 
Life  of  Beethoven,  already  favorably  known  to  the  world 
as  far  as  the  first  volume.  The  second,  not  yet  com- 
pleted, is  looked  for  with  interest.  Mr.  Thayer's  kind 
attentions  made  our  sliort  stay  in  Trieste  pleasant,  and 
our  transit  to  the  Austrian  Lloyd's  steamer  easy,  and 
within  thirty-six  hours  after  our  arrival  we  found  our- 
selves embarked  on  board  tlie  latter,  en  route  for  Syra, 
where  we  should  find  another  Austrian  Lloyd  waiting 
to  convey  us  to  the  Pirasus,  the  well-known  port  of 
Athens. 

Our  voyage  began  with  a  stormy  day.  Incessant  rain 
soaked  the  deck.     A  charming  little  upper  cabin,  cush- 


154  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

ioiicci  and  vviiulovvcd  like  a  luxurious  carriage,  gave  us 
shelter,  combined  vvitli  fresh  air  —  the  cordial  of  those 
who  "  ctvhi/n  ct  aiiimiim  vniiant,  quia  trans  mare  cur- 
rcut"  Here  I  pilhnved  myself  in  inevitable  idleness, 
now  become,  alas !  too  familiar,  and  amused  myself 
with  the  energetic  caqiict  of  my  companions. 

An  elderly  Greek  gentleman.  Count  Lunzi  of  Zantc, 
with  a  pleasing  daughter;  a  young  Austrian,  accompa- 
nied by  a  pretty  sister  ;  an  elderly  Neapolitan  bachelor, — 
these  were  our  fellow-passengers  in  the  first  cabin.  In 
the  second  cabin  were  eleven  friars,  and  an  intelligent 
Venetian  apothecary,  with  wliom  I  subsequently  made 
acquaintance.  The  captain,  a  middle-aged  Dalmatian, 
came  and  went.  lie  wore  over  his  uniform  a  capote  of 
India  rubber  cloth,  which  he  laid  aside  when  he  came 
into  our  deck-parlor  for  a  brief  sitting  and  a  whiff  of 
tobacco.  The  gentlemen  all  smoked  without  apology. 
The  little  Greek  lady  soon  became  violently  seasick, 
and  the  Austrian  maiden  followed.  The  neophyte  and 
the  Austrian  brother  felt  no  pang,  but  the  neophyte's 
mother  was  dizzy  and  uncomfortable.  Count  Lunzi 
and  the  Neapolitan  kept  up  a  perpetual  conversation  in 
French,  having  many  mutual  acquaintances,  whose  ab- 
sence they  found  it  worth  while  to  improve.  I  blessed 
their  loquacity,  which  beguiled  for  me  the  weary,  help- 
less hours.  We  went  down  to  dinner ;  at  tea-time  we 
were  non  compos  ?ncnsis.  The  state-rooms  below  being 
intensely  hot  and  close  in  consequence  of  tlic  rain,  we 
all  staid  up  stairs  as  long  as  possible,  and  our  fnial 
retreat  was  made  in  the  order  of  our  symptoms. 


GREECE    AXD    THE    VOYAGE    THITHER. 


^d:) 


The  following  morning  brought  us  the  sun.  The 
rain  was  at  an  end,  and  the  sea  grew  less  turbulent.  The 
day  was  Sunday,  and  the  unmistakable  accents  of  the- 
ological controversy  saluted  my  ears  as  I  ascended  the 
companion-way,  and  took  my  place  in  the  deck-parlor. 
Count  Lunzi,  a  liberal,  and  a  student  of  German  criti- 
cism, was  vigorously  belaboring  three  of  the  friars,  who 
replied  to  him  whenever  they  w'ere  able  to  get  a  word 
in,  which  was  not  often.  His  arguments  supported  the 
action  of  the  Italian  government  in  disbanding  all  mo- 
nastic fraternities  throughout  its  dominions,  giving  to 
each  member  a  small  pension,  and  inviting  all  to  live  by 
exercising  the  duties  of  their  profession  as  secular  priests. 
Our  friars  had  concluded  to  expatriate,  rather  than  secu- 
larize, themselves,  and  were  now  eft  route  for  Kaiafa,  a 
place  concerning  which  I  could  only  learn  that  it  was 
in  Syria.  They  wei'e  impugned,  according  to  the 
ancient  superstition,  as  the  causes  of  our  bad  embarka- 
tion and  rough  voyage.  They  were  young  and  vigor- 
ous men,  and  the  old  count  not  unreasonably  urged 
them  to  abandon  a  career  now  recognized  as  useless  and 
obsolete,  and  to  earn  their  bread  by  some  availing  labor. 
The  circle  of  the  controversy  widened.  More  friars 
came  up  from  below.  The  ship's  surgeon  joined  him- 
self to  them,  the  Venetian  siding  with  the  count.  The 
Neapolitan  stood  by  to  see  fair  play,  and  a  good  part 
of  the  day  of  rest  was  occupied  by  this  S3'^mphony  of 
discord. 

I  confess  that,  although  the  friars'  opinions  were  ab- 
horrent to  mine,  I  yet  wished  that  they  might  have  been 


156  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIV'E. 

let  alone.  Even  Puritan  ]\Iilton  docs  not  set  a  Calvin- 
istic  angel  to  argue  with  Adam  and  Eve  concerning  the 
justice  of  their  expulsion  from  Paradise.  The  journey 
itself  was  pain  enough,  without  the  reprobation.  As 
the  friars  had  been  turned  out  of  their  comfortable  nests, 
and  were  poor  and  disconsolate,  I  myself  would  sooner 
have  given  them  an  obolus  unjustified  by  theory  than  a 
diatribe  justified  by  logic.  But  the  old  count  was  sin- 
cere and  able,  and  at  least  presented  to  them  views 
greatly  in  advance  of  their  bigotr}'  and  superstition. 
While  this  conversation  went  on,  we  passed  Lissa,  where 
the  Italian  fleet  was  repulsed  by  the  Austrians,  during 
llic  war  of  Italian  unity.  Our  fellow-passenger  of  the 
nation  second  named  (quietly  exults  over  tliis  event.  He 
docs  well.  Austrian  victories  have  been  rare  of  late. 
Of  the  day  following  my  diary  says, — 

June  17.  —  In  sight  of  the  Acroceraunian  moun- 
tains and  shore  of  Albania.  Vessel  laboring  with  head 
wind,  I  with  Guizot's  Meditations,  which  also  have 
some  head  wind  in  them.  They  seem  to  me  inconclu- 
sive in  statement,  and  insuHlcicnt  in  thouglit,  presenting, 
nevertheless,  some  facts  and  considerations  of  interest. 
At  a  little  before  two  P.  M.,  we  pass  Fano,  the  island  in 
which  Calypso  could  not  console  herself;  and  no  wonder. 
At  two  we  enter  the  channel  of  Corfu,  but  do  not  reach 
the  shore  itself  until  five  o'clock.  A  boat  conveys  us  to 
the  shore,  where,  w  ith  our  Austrian  friends,  we  engage 
a  carriage,  and  drive  to  view  the  environs. 

This  is  my  first  experience  of  Greece.  The  streets 
are  narrow  and  irregular,   the  men  mostly  in  European 


GREECE  AND  THE  VOYAGE  THITHER.       157 

costume,  with  here  and  there  a  fustanella.  Our  drive 
took  us  to  a  picturesque  eminence,  commanding  a 
lovely  prospect.  It  led  us  through  a  sort  of  Elysian 
field,  planted  w^ith  shade  trees,  vv^here  the  populace  on 
gala  days  go  to  sip  coffee,  and  meet  their  friends  and 
neighbors.  Returning  to  the  town,  we  pass  several 
large  hotels  and  cafes,  at  one  of  which  we  order  ices.  I 
puzzle  myself  in  vain  with  the  Greek  signs  over  the 
shop  windows.  Our  leave  of  absence  having  expired, 
we  hasten  back  to  the  steamer,  but  find  its  departure 
delayed  by  the  labor  of  embarking  a  Turkish  dignitary, 
Achmed  Pacha,  who,  with  a  numerous  suite,  male  and 
female,  is  to  take  passage  with  us  for  the  Dardanelles. 

A  steamer,  bearing  the  Crescent  flag  at  her  mast-head, 
was  anchored  alongside  of  our  own.  Our  hitherto 
quiet  quarters  were  become  a  little  Babel  of  strange 
tongues  and  costumes.  Any  costume  artist  would  have 
gone  mad  with  delight  over  the  variety  of  coats  and 
colors  which  our  new  visitors  displayed.  Those  won- 
derful jackets  and  capotes,  which  are  the  romance  of 
stage  and  fancy-ball  attire,  here  appeared  as  the  com- 
mon prose  of  every-day  dress.  Every  man  wore  a  fez.  I 
remember  a  handsome  youth,  whose  crimson  head-gear 
contrasted  with  a  white  sheepskin  jacket  with  wide, 
hanging  sleeves  —  the  sleeves  not  worn  on  the  arms, 
but  at  the  back  ;  the  close  vest,  loose,  short  skirt,  and 
leggings  were  also  white  —  the  whole  very  eflective.  He 
was  only  one  figure  of  a  brilliant  panorama,  but  treach- 
erous memory  does  not  give  me  the  features  of  the 
others. 


15S  riio.M  Tini:  oak  to  the  oi.ivk. 

Our  vessel,  meanwhile,  was  engaged  in  swallowing 
the  contents  of  the  Turkish  steamer  with  the  same 
deliberation  with  which  an  anaconda  swallows  a  bul- 
lock. The  Turks  and  Albanians  might  scream  and 
chatter,  and  declaim  the  whole  Koran  at  their  pleasure, 
the  great  crane  went  steadily  on  —  hoisting  bale  after 
bale,  and  lowering  the  same  into  our  hold.  This  house- 
hold stutV  consisted  principally  of  rugs  and  bedding, 
with  trunks,  boxes,  and  kitchen  furnitu?e,  and  some 
mysterious  bundles  whose  contents  could  not  be  conjec- 
tured. 

The  sight  of  this  unwholesome-looking  luggage  sug- 
gested to  some  of  us  possible  communication  of  cholera, 
or  eastern  plague.  The  neophyte  and  I  sat  hand  in 
hand,  looking  ruefully  on,  and  wondering  how  soon  W'e 
should  break  out.  But  when  the  dry  goods  were  dis- 
posed of,  the  transfer  of  the  human  merchandise  from 
one  vessel  to  the  other  seized  our  attention,  and  put  our 
fears  out  of  sight. 

Our  first  view  of  the  pacha's  harejn  showed  us  a 
dozen  or  more  women  crouching  on  the  deck  of  the 
Turkish  steamer,  their  heads  and  faces  bimdled  up  with 
white  muslin  veils,  which  concealed  hair,  forehead, 
mouth,  and  chin,  leaving  exposed  to  view  only  the 
triangle  of  the  eyes  and  nose.  Several  chiUhen  were 
there,  who  at  first  sight  all  appeared  equally  dirty  and 
ill-dressed.  We  were  afterwards  able  to  distinguish 
diflcrences  between  them. 

The  women  and  children  came  on  board  in  a  body, 
and    took   up    a  position  on   the  staihoard   side  of  the 


GREECE    AND    THE    VOYAGE    THITHER.  1 59 

deck.  With  them  came  an  old  man-servant,  in  a  loncj 
garment  of  whitish  woollen  cloth,  who  defined  their 
boundaries  by  piling  up  certain  bales  of  propei'ty. 
In  tlie  sjoace  thus  marked  off,  mattresses  were  at  once  laid 
down  and  spread  with  coverlets  ;  for  these  women  were 
to  pass  night  as  well  as  day  on  deck.  Five  ladies  of  the 
pacha's  family  at  once  intrenched  themselves  in  one  of 
the  small  cabins  below,  where,  with  five  children,  they 
continued  for  the  ■  remainder  of  the  voyage,  without 
exercise  or  ventilation.  Too  sacred  to  be  seen  by 
human  eyes,  these  ladies  made  us  aware  of  their  pres- 
ence by  the  sound  of  their  incessant  chattering,  by  the 
odor  of  their  tobacco,  and  by  the  screaming  of  one  of 
their  little  ones,  an  infant  of  eight  months. 

When  these  things  had  been  accomplished,  our  cap- 
tain sent  word  to  the  pacha  that  he  was  ready  to  depart. 
The  great  man's  easy-chair  —  by  no  means  a  splendid 
one  —  was  then  carried  on  board,  and  the  great  man 
himself,  accompanied  by  his  son-in-law  and  his  drago- 
man, came  among  us.  He  was  a  short,  stout  person, 
some  fifty  years  of  age,  and  wore  a  dark  military  coat, 
with  a  gold  stripe  on  the  shoulder,  and  lilac  trousers. 
His  dragoman  was  a  Greek.  He  and  his  suite  smoked 
vigorously,  and  stared  somewhat,  as,  with  the  neophyte 
on  one  side  and  the  little  Austrian  lady  on  the  other,  I 
walked  up  and  down  the  deck.  The  women  and  the 
old  servant  all  slept  d  la  belle  etoile.  The  pacha  and 
his  officers  had  state-rooms  in  the  saloon ;  the  other 
men  were  in  the  third  cabin.  I  forgot  to  say  that  at 
Corfu  we  left  Count  Lunzi   and   his  amiable  daughter, 


l6o  lUOM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

whose  gracious  manners  and  good  Englisli  did  crctlit  to 
Mrs.  Ilills's  excellent  tuition,  which  the  young  lady 
had  enjoyed  for  some  years  at  her  well-known  school  in 
Athens. 

When  wc  came  on  deck  the  next  morning,  we  found 
some  of  the  Turkish  women  still  recumbent,  others 
seated  upon  their  mattresses.  Two  of  the  children,  a 
girl  of  ten  years  and  a  boy  of  twelve,  went  about  under 
orders,  and  carried  dishes  and  water-vessels  between  the 
cabin  and  the  deck.  Wc  afterwards  learned  that  these 
were  Albanian  slaves.  The  girl  was  named  Ilaspir, 
the  boy  Ali.  The  first  had  large  dark  eyes  and  a  mel- 
ancholy expression  of  countenance  ;  the  boy  also  had 
Oriental  eyes,  whose  mischievous  twinkle  was  tempered 
by  the  gravity  of  his  situation.  The  old  servant,  v.hom 
they  called  Baba,  ate  his  breakfast  in  a  corner.  He  had 
a  miscellaneous  looking  dish  of  fish,  bread,  and  olives. 
The  women  fed  chiefly,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  on 
cucumbers  and  radishes,  which  they  held  and  munched. 
Water  was  given  from  a  brazen  pitcher,  of  a  pattern 
decidedly  Oriental.  Coflee  was  served  to  the  invisible 
family  in  the  small  cabin.  I  did  not  see  tlie  women  on 
deck  i^artakc  of  it.  But  from  this  lime  the  scope 
of  my  observations  was  limited.  A  canvas  partition, 
made  fast  to  the  niast  overhead,  now  intervened,  to  pre- 
serve this  portion  of  the  harciii  from  the  pollution  of 
external  regards.  Henceforth,  we  had  glimpses  of  its 
members  only  when  a  lurch  of  the  steamer  swayed  the 
canvas  wall  far  out  of  equilil)rium.  The  far  filentc 
seemed  to  be  their  fate,  without  alternative.     Nor  book 


GREECE    AXD    THE    VOYAGE    THITHER.  l6l 

nor  needle  had  they.  The  children  came  outside,  and 
peejoed  at  us.  Baba,  grim  guardian  of  the  household, 
sat  or  squatted  among  his  bales,  oftenest  quite  unoc- 
cupied, but  sometimes  smoking,  or  chattering  with  the 
children.  I  took  my  modest  drawing-book,  and,  with 
unsteady  hand,  began  to  sketch  him  in  pen  and  ink. 
He  soon  divined  my  occujDation,  and  kept  as  still  as  a 
mouse  until  by  a  sign  I  released  him,  when  he  begged, 
in  the  same  language,  to  see  what  I  had  drawn.  I  next 
tried  to  get  a  croquls  of  a  pretty  little  girl  who  played 
about,  wearing  a  pink  wadded  sack  over  a  gown  and 
trousers  of  common  flowered  calico,  bufl'  and  brown. 
She  was  disposed  to  wriggle  out  of  sight;  but  Baba 
threatened  her,  and  she  was  still. 

Presently,  the  slave-boy,  Ali,  came  up  from  the  select 
cabin  below,  bearing  in  his  arms  an  ill-conditioned  little 
creature,  two  years  of  age,  who  had  come  on  board  in 
a  cashmere  pelisse  lined  with  fur,  a  pink  wadded  under- 
jacket,  and  a  joair  of  trousers  of  dirty  common  calico. 
He  had  now  discarded  the  fur-pelisse.  On  his  round 
little  head  he  wore  a  cap  of  pink  cashmere,  soiled  and 
defaced,  with  a  large  gold  coin  attached  to  it.  A 
natural  weakness  drew  me  towards  the  little  wretch, 
whom  I  tried  to  caress.  Ali  patted  him  tenderly,  and 
said,  "  Pacha."  This  was  indeed  the  youngest  member, 
save  one,  of  the  pacha's  family  —  the  true  baby  being 
the  infant  secluded  down  stairs,  whose  frequent  cries 
appealed  in  vain  for  change  of  air  and  of  scene.  The 
two-year-old  had  already  the  title  of  bey. 

"  Can  a  baby  a  bey  be?  "  I  asked,  provoking  the  dis- 
1 1 


\ 

162  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

gust  whicli  a  pun  is  sure  to  awaken  in  those  who  have 
not  iiKulc  it. 

We  met  the  pacha  at  meals,  interchanging  mute  sal- 
utations, lie  had  a  pleasant,  helpless  sort  of  smile,  and 
ate  according  to  the  orthodox  standard  (jf  nicety.  On 
deck  some  attendant  constantly  brought  him  a  pipe  com- 
posed of  a  large  knob  of  amber,  which  served  as  a  mouth 
piece,  and  a  reed  some  eight  inclies  in  length,  bearing  a 
lighted  cigar. 

As  we  sat  much  in  our  round  house,  it  was  inevitable 
that  I  should  at  last  establish  communication  with  him 
tluough  the  metliation  of  a  young  Greek  passenger,  who 
spoke  both  Turkish  and  French. 

It  was  from  the  pacha  that  I  learned  that  Ilaspir  and 
Ali  were  slaves.  The  little  girl  whom  1  had  sketched 
was  his  daughter.  I  inquired  about  a  girl  somewhat 
younger,  who  played  with  this  one.  The  pacha  signi- 
fied that  he  had  given  the  mother  of  his  daughter  to 
one  of  his  men,  and  that  the  second  little  girl  was  born 
of  this  connection.  The  two  younger  children  already 
spoken  of  were  born  of  another  mother,  probably  each 
of  a  different  one. 

"  O  Christian  marriage  !  "  I  thought,  as  I  looked  on 
this  miscellaneous  and  inorganic  family,  "  let  us  not 
complain  of  thy  burdens." 

Willi  us  the  birth  of  a  child  is  the  strongest  bond  of 
union  between  its  parents;  with  the  Oriental  it  is  the 
signal  for  separation.  No  society  will  ever  permanently 
increase  whose  structure  rests  on  an  architecture  so 
feeble.     The  Turkish  empire  might  spread  by  conquest 


GREECE    AND    THE    VOYAGE    THITHER.  1 63 

and  thrive  by  plunder.  But  at  home  it  can  never  compete 
with  nations  in  which  family  life  has  individuality  of 
centre  and  equality  of  obligation.  With  Greeks  and 
Albanians  to  work  for  them,  and  pay  them  tribute,  the 
Turks  are  able  to  attain  a  certain  wealth.  It  is  the 
wealth,  however,  which  impoverishes  mankind,  exhaust- 
ing the  sources  of  industry  and  of  enterprise.  Let  the 
Turk  live  upon  what  he  can  earn,  and  we  shall  hear  little 
of  him. 

The  women  sometimes  struggled  out  from  their  canvas 
enclosure,  and  went  below  on  various  errands.  On  these 
occasions  they  were  enveloped  in  a  straight  striped  cover- 
ing, white  and  red,  much  like  a  summer  counterpane. 
This  was  thrown  over  the  head,  held  together  between 
the  teeth,  and  reached  to  the  feet.  It  left  in  view 
their  muslin  head-dresses,  and  calico  trousers,  gathered 
at  the  ankle,  nothing  more.  A  few  were  barefoot —  one 
or  two  only  wore  stockings.  Most  of  them  were  shod 
with  brodeqiiins^  of  a  size  usually  worn  by  men. 

At  a  late  hour  in  the  afternoon,  Ali  brought  to  their 
enclosure  a  round  metal  dish  of  stewed  meat,  cut  in 
small  pieces  for  the  convenience  of  those  whose  customs 
are  present  proof  that  fingers  were  made  before  knives 
and  forks.  A  great  dish  of  rice  simultaneously  made 
its  appearance.  Baba  chattered  very  much,  Ali  made 
himself  busy,  and  a  little  internal  commotion  became 
perceptible  behind  the  canvas  wall. 

My  opportunity  of  observing  Turkish  manners  was  as 
brief  as  it  was  limited.  Having  taken  the  Moslems  on 
board  on  Monday,  well  towards  evening,  the  Wednesday 


■   164  FROM    TlIK    OAK    TO    TIIK    OLIVE. 

f.)llowin<,^  saw,  at  ten  A.  M.,  my  exit  from  the  steamer. 
For  \vc   were   now    in    the  harbor    of  Syra.     Wiien    I 
came  on  deck,  soon  after  five  A.  M.,  the  pacha  sent  me 
coflee  in  a  little  cup  with  a    silver  stand.     It  was  pre- 
pared after  the  Turkisli   manner,  and  was  fragrant  and 
delicious.     While  we  were  at  breakf\xst,  Mr.  Saponzaki, 
American  consul  at  Syra,  came  on   board  in  search  of 
me,  followed    soon    by  an  old   friend,  Mr.  Evangelides. 
With    real    regret    I   took    leave  of  the  friendly  captain 
and  pleasant  companions  of  the  voyage.     I  shook  hands 
w  ith  the  pacha,  not  unmindful  of  the  miseries  of  Crete. 
Baba  also  gave  me  a  parting  salutation.     He  was  a  nice 
observer  of  womanly   actions,  and   his  farewell   gesture 
seemed  to  say,  "  Although  barefaced,  you  are  respecta- 
ble;"  which,  if  he  really  meant  it,  was  a  great  deal  for 
him  to  allow.    Our  luggage  was  now  transferred  on  board 
the  smaller  steamer,  which  was  to  sail   at  six  P.  M.  for 
the  Piraeus,  and  the  neophyte  and    myself  soon  found 
ourselves  under  the  shelter  of  Mr.   Evangelides'  roof, 
where  his  Greek  wife  made  us  cordially  welcome. 

Syra. 

Mr,  Evangelides  was  one  of  a  number  of  youths 
brought  to  the  United  States,  after  the  war  of  Greek  in- 
dependence, for  aid  and  education.  The  latter  was  the 
chief  endowment  with  which  his  adopted  country  re- 
turned him  to  his  native  land.  The  value  of  this  gift 
he  was  soon  to  realize,  though  not  without  previous 
hardships  and  pivations.  After  a  year  or  two  of  trial,  he 
commenced  a  school  in  Syra.   This  school  was  soon  filled 


SYR  A.  165 

with  pupils,  and  many  intelligent  and  successful  Greeks 
of  the  present  day  are  among  his  old  scholars.  Besides 
methods  of  education,  he  brought  from  America  a  novel 
idea  —  that  of  the  value  of  real  estate.  Looking  about 
Syra,  and  becoming  convinced  of  its  inevitable  growth, 
he  invested  the  surplus  of  his  earnings  in  tracts  of  land 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  then  small  town, 
to  the  utter  mystification  of  his  neighbors.  That  one 
should  invest  in  jewels,  arms,  a  house,  or  a  vineyard, 
would  have  seemed  to  them  natural  enough  ;  but  what 
any  man  should  want  of  mere  land  scarcely  fit  for  till- 
age, was  beyond  their  comprehension.  The  expected 
growth  was  not  slow  in  coming.  Mr.  Evangelides  soon 
began  to  realize  handsomely,  as  we  should  say,  from  his 
investment,  and  is  now  esteemed  a  man  of  wealth.  His 
neighbors  thereafter  named  him  "  the  Greek  Yankee  ;  " 
and  I  must  say  that  he  seems  to  hold  equally  to  the  two 
belongings,  in  spite  of  the  Scripture  caution. 

Under  the  escort  of  my  old  friend,  I  went  out  to  see 
the  town,  and  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  most  emi- 
nent of  the  inhabitants,  the  custom  of  the  country  mak- 
ing the  duty  of  the  first  call  incumbent  upon  the  person 
newly  arrived. 

Unfurling  a  large  umbrella,  and  trembling  with  the 
fear  of  sun-stroke,  I  proceeded  to  climb  the  steep  and 
narrow  streets  of  the  town.  We  first  incommode  with 
our  presence  the  governor  of  the  Cyclades,  a  patriotic 
Greek,  who  speaks  good  English  and  good  sense.  We 
talk  of  Cretan  aflairs ;  he  is  not  sanguine  as  to  the  effi- 
cient intervention  of  the  European  powers. 

We  next  call  upon  the  archbishop,  at  whose  house  we 


1 66  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    TlIK    OI.IVE. 

arc  received  by  a  black  servant  in  Frank  cb-ess,  speaking 
good  Frcncb.  Presently  tbc  prelate  appeared  —  a  tall, 
gentlemanly  person  in  a  rich  costiunc,  one  feature  of 
which  was  a  medallion,  brilliant  with  precious  stones 
of  various  colors.  His  reverence  had  made  his  studies 
in  Germany,  and  spoke  the  language  of  that  country 
quite  fluently.  Tholuck  had  been  his  especial  professor, 
but  he  had  also  known  Bauer;  and  he  took  some  pains 
to  assure  mc  that  the  latter  was  not  an  irreligious  man, 
in  spite  of  the  hardihood  of  his  criticism.  He  deplored 
the  absence  of  a  state  religion  in  America.  I  told  him 
that  the  progress  of  religion  in  our  country  seemed  to 
establish  the  fact  that  society  attains  the  best  religious 
culture  through  the  greatest  religious  liberty.  He  re- 
plied that  tlie  members  should  all  be  united  under  one 
head.  "Yes,"  said  I,  "but  the  Head  is  invisible;"  and 
he  repeated  after  me,  "  Indeed,  the  Head  is  invisible." 
I  will  here  remark  that  nothing  could  have  been  more 
refreshing  to  the  New  England  mind  than  this  immedi- 
ate introduction  to  the  theological  opinions  of  the  East. 
Other  refreshment,  however,  was  in  store  for  me  — 
the  sweetmeats  and  water  which  form  tlie  somewhat 
symbolical  staple  of  Greek  hospitality.  Of  these  I 
partook  in  the  orthodox  manner.  One  dish  only  is 
brought  in,  but  many  spoons,  one  of  which  each  guest 
dips  into  the^^''///'6>  (sweet),  and,  having  partaken,  drops 
the  spoon  into  the  glass  of  fresh  water  which  always 
follows.  Turkish  coffee  was  afterwards  served  in  small 
cups  without  spoons.  And  now,  not  knowing  what 
sermons  or  other  duties  ni}'  presence  might  impede,  I 
took  leave,  much  gratified  by  the  interview. 


SYRA.  167 

We  passed  from  hence  to  the  house  of  the  Austrian 
consul,  Dr.  Hahn,  a  writer  of  scientific  travels,  and  a 
student  of  antiquities.  He  had  not  long  before  visited 
the  Island  of  Santorin,  whose  recently-awakened  vol- 
cano interests  the  world  of  science.  He  told  me  of  a 
house  newly  excavated  in  this  region,  containing  tools 
and  implements  as  old,  at  least,  as  those  of  the  Lacus- 
trine period,  and,  in  his  opinion,  somewhat  older.  This 
house  had  been  deeply  buried  in  ashes  by  an  ancient 
eruption,  so  violent  as  to  have  eviscerated  the  volcano 
of  that  time,  which  subsequently  collapsed.  The  depth 
of  ashes  he  stated  as  considerably  greater  than  that 
found  in  any  part  of  the  Pompeian  excavation,  being 
at  least  thirty  yards.  Hewn  stones  were  found  here, 
but  no  metal  implements,  nor  traces  of  any.  Caucasian 
skulls  were  also  found,  and  pottery  of  a  finer  descrip- 
tion than  that  belonging  to  the  Lacustrine  period.  He 
gave  me  a  model  of  a  small  pitcher  discovered  among 
the  ruins,  of  which  the  nose  was  shaped  like  the  beak 
of  a  bird,  with  a  further  imitation  of  the  eye  on  either 
side.  Another  small  vessel  was  ornamented  by  the 
model  of  a  human  breast,  to  denote  plenty.  He  had 
also  plaster  casts  of  skulls,  arm  and  jaw  bones,  and 
flint  saws,  upon  which  he  descanted  with  great  vivacity. 
Dr.  Hahn's  courteous  and  charming  manners  caused 
me  to  remember  him  as  one  of  the  many  Austrians 
whose  amiable  qualities  make  us  doubly  regret  the  o)ius 
which  the  imtimely  policy  of  their  government  throws 
upon  them. 

These  visits  at  end,  Mr.  Evangelides  took  me  home 
to  dinner,  where  the  best  Greek  dishes  were  enhanced 


l6S  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIV^E. 

by  Saniian  wine.  \\'c  had  scarcely  dinctl  when  the 
archbishop,  followed  by  an  attendant  priest,  came  to 
return  our  visit.  The  Greeks  present  all  kissed  his 
hand,  and  gUko  and  coffee  were  speedily  oflered.  We 
resumed  our  conversation  of  the  morning,  and  the  celi- 
bacy of  the  clerical  hierarchy  came  next  in  order  in  our 
discussion.  The  father  was  in  something  of  a  strait 
between  the  Christian  dignilication  of  marriaj^e  and  its 
ascetic  depreciation.  The  arrival  of  other  visitors  forced 
us  to  part,  with  this  interesting  point  still  unsettled.  We 
next  visited  the  wife  of  the  American  vice-consul — Mr. 
Saponzaki  —  a  handsome  person,  who  received  us  with 
great  cordiality.  After  a  brief  sojourn,  we  walked 
down  to  the  landing,  visiting  the  foundery,  where  they 
were  making  brass  cannon,  and  the  Acadi^  the  smart 
little  steamer  given  by  the  Greeks  of  London  to  the 
Cretan  cause.  She  ran  our  blockade  in  the  late  war, 
but  is  now  engaged  in  a  more  honest  service,  for  she 
runs  the  Turkish  blockade,  and  carries  the  means  of 
subsistence  to  the  Cretans.  Here  we  met  Mr.  DeKay, 
a  youthful  Philcandiote  of  our  own  country.  lie  had 
already  made  himself  familiar  with  the  state  of  things 
in  Candia,  and,  like  the  blockade-runner,  was  serving 
in  his  second  war,  with  the  ditlerence  that  his  former 
record  showed  him  to  have  been  always  on  the  side  of 
Christian  loyalty. 

Finally,  amitl  thanks  and  farewells,  a  small  boat  took 
us  alongside  of  the  Austrian  steamer,  which  carried  us 
comfortably,  and  by  magnificent  moonlight,  to  the 
Piraeus. 


pir^us athens.  1 69 

Piraeus  —  Athens. 

We  were  still  soundly  asleep  when  the  camericic 
knocked  at  the  door  of  our  cabin,  crying,  "  Signora, 
here  we  are  at  the  Piraeus."  The  hour  was  four  of  the 
morning,  but  we  were  now  come  to  the  regions  in  which 
men  use  the  two  ends  of  the  day,  and  throw  away  the 
middle.  We,  therefore,  seized  the  end  offered  to  us, 
and  as  briefly  as  possible  made  our  way  on  deck,  where 
we  found  a  commissionaire  from  the  Hotel  des  Etran- 
gers,  at  Athens.  We  had  expected  to  meet  here  the 
chief  of  our  party,  who  had  gone  before  us  to  Athens. 
The  commissionaire,  however,  brought  us  a  note,  telling 
of  an  accident  whose  fatigues  did  not  allow  him  to  wait 
upon  us  in  person.  We  were  soon  in  the  small  boat, 
and  soon  after  in  the  carriage,  intent  upon  reaching 
Athens.  Pireo,  as  they  call  the  classic  port,  is  quite  a 
bustling  place,  the  harbor  gay  with  shipping  and  flags 
of  all  nations.  The  drive  to  the  Capitol  occupies  three 
quarters  of  an  hour.  The  half-way  point  of  the  dis- 
tance is  marked  by  two  rival  khans^  at  one  of  which  the 
driver  of  a  public  vehicle  always  stops  to  water  his 
horses  and  light  his  cigar.  Here  a  plate  of  lokzimia, 
a  sweetmeat  something  like  fig-paste,  and  glasses  of 
fresh  water,  were  brought  out  and  offered  to  us.  Soon 
we  came  in  sight  of  the  Acropolis,  not  without  an 
indescribable  puzzle  at  beholding,  in  commonplace 
existence,  one  of  those  dreams  whose  mystical  beauty 
we  never  expect  to  realize,  and  fear  to  dissipate.  Now 
we  drive  through  many  streets  and  squares,   and  finally 


lyO  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    TJIK    OLIVK. 

Stop  at  a  hotel  in  front  of  one  of  the  prettiest  of  the 
latter,  from  whose  door  our  chief  issues  to  welcome  us. 
With  him  is  the  elder  neophyte,  who  has  so  far  shared 
his  wanderings,  and  latterly  the  near  danger  of  shij> 
wreck.  Under  her  guidance  we  walk  out,  after  break- 
fiast,  to  look  at  the  shops  in  Hermes  Street,  but  the 
glaring  sun  soon  drives  us  back  to  our  quarters.  We 
take  the  midday  nap,  dine,  and  at  sunset  drive  to  the 
Acropolis.  On  our  way  thither,  wc  pass  the  remain- 
ing columns  of  the  Temple  of  Jupiter  Olympius,  a 
Roman-Greek  structure,  the  work  of  Adrian.  These 
columns,  sixteen  in  number,  stand  on  a  level  area  of 
some  extent.  One  of  them,  overthrown  by  an  earth- 
quake,  lies  in  ruins,*  its  separate  segments  suggesting  the 
image  of  gigantic    vertebrae.      The   spine  is  indeed  a  ^ 

column,  but  it  has  the  advantage  of  being  flexible,  and  ^J, 
the  method  and  principle  of  its  unity  arc  not  imitablc  by 
human    architects.      At  the  Acropolis  a  wooden  gate     ^ 
opens  for  our  admission,  and  a    man    in    half-military       . 
costume  follows  our  steps.  ^ 

We  visit  first  the   Fropylea,  or  five   gates,  then  the      ; 
Parthenon.     Our  guide  points    out    the    beauty    of    its    ^ 
Doric  columns,  the  perfection  of  their  execution — the       . 
two  uniting  faces  of  each  of  their  pieces  being  polished,     ^ 
so  as  to  allow  of  their  entire  union.     Here  stood  the 
great   statue   of  Minerva  Medica ;  here,  the   table   for 
sacrifice.     Here  are  the  ways  on  which  the  ponderous 
doors  opened  and  shut.     And  Pericles  caused    it  to  be 
built;    and   this,  his   marble   utterance,  is  now  a   lame 
sentence,  with  half  its  sense  left  out.      In  this   corner   is 


PIR^US  —  ATHENS.  171 

the  high  Venetian  tower,  a  sohd  relic,  modern  beside 
that  which  it  guards.  And  worse  than  any  wrong  de- 
nouement of  a  novel  is  the  intelligence  here  given  you 
that  the  Parth-enon  stood  entire  not  two  hundred  years 
ago,  and  that  the  explosion  of  a  powder  magazine,  con- 
nected with  this  Venetian  fortification,  shattered  its 
matchless  beauty. 

Here  is  the  Temple  of  Victory.  Within  are  the 
bas-reliefs  of  the  Victories  arriving  in  the  hurry  of  their 
glorious  errands.  Something  so  they  tumbled  in  upon  us 
when  Sherman  conquered  the  Carolinas,  and  Sheridan 
the  valley  of  the  Shenandoah,  when  Lee  surrendered, 
and  the  glad  president  went  to  Richmond.  One  of  these 
Victories  is  untying  her  sandal,  in  token  of  her  perma- 
nent abiding.  Yet  all  of  them  have  trooped  away  long 
since,  scared  by  the  hideous  havoc  of  barbarians.  And 
the  bas-reliefs,  their  marble  shadows,  have  all  been 
battered  and  mutilated  into  the  saddest  mockery  of  their 
original  tradition.  The  statue  of  Wingless  Victory  that 
stood  in  the  little  temple,  has  long  been  absent  and 
unaccounted  for.  But  the  only  Victory  that  the  Parthe- 
non now  can  seize  or  desire  is  this  very  Wingless 
Victory,  the  triumph  of  a  power  that  retreats  not  —  the 
power  of  Truth. 

I  give  heed  to  all  that  is  told  me  in  a  dreamy  and 
desolate  manner.  It  is  true,  no  doubt  —  this  was, 
and  this,  and  this ;  but  what  I  see  is  none  the  less 
emptiness  —  the  broken  eggshell  of  a  civilization  which 
Time  has  hatched  and  devoured.  And  this  incapacity 
to  reconstruct  the  past  goes  with    me  through  most  of 


172  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

iny  clays  in  Athens.  The  city  is  so  modern,  and  its 
circle  so  small !  The  trumpeters  who  shriek  around 
the  Thcseum  in  the  morning,  the  cafe  keeper  who  taxes 
you  for  a  chair  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Olympian 
columns,  the  ciistode  who  hangs  about  to  see  that  you 
do  not  break  the  l)roken  marbles  further,  or  carry  oil' 
their  piteous  fragments,  all  of  these  are  significant  of 
modern  Greece  ;  but  the  ruins  have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

Poor  as  these  relics  are  in  comparison  with  what  one 
would  wish  them  to  be,  they  are  still  priceless.  This 
Greek  marble  is  the  noblest  in  descent ;  it  needs  no  eulo- 
gy. These  forms  have  given  the  model  for  a  hundred 
familiar  and  commonplace  works,  which  caught  a  little 
gleam  of  their  glory,  squaring  to  shapeliness  some  town- 
house  of  the  west,  or  southern  bank  or  church.  So 
well  do  we  know  them  in  the  prose  of  modern  design, 
that  we  are  startled  at  seeing  them  transfigured  in  the 
poetry  of  their  own  conception.  Poor  old  age  !  poor 
columns ! 

And  poor  Greece,  plundered  by  Roman,  Christian, 
and  Mussulman.  Ilcrs  were  the  lovely  statues  that 
grace  the  halls  of  the  Vatican  —  at  least  the  loveliest 
of  them.  And  Rome  shows  to  this  day  two  colossal 
groups,  of  which  one  bears  the  inscription,  "  Opus  Prax- 
itclic"  the  other  that  of  '■^  Opus  PJiidlir."  And  Naples 
has  a  Greek  treasure  or  two,  one  thinks,  besides  her 
wealth  of  sculptural  gems,  of  which  the  best  arc  of 
Greek  workmanship.  And  in  England  those  bas-reliefs 
which  are  the  treasure  of  art  students  and  the  wonder 
of  the   world,  were   pulled   from    llie    pediment  of   the 


PIR.<EUS ATHENS.  1 73 

Parthenon,  like  the  pearly  teeth  from  a  fair  mouth,  the 
mournful  gaps  remaining  open  in  the  sight  of  the  unfor- 
giving world.  "  Thou  art  old  and  decrepit,"  said  Eng- 
land. "  I  am  still  in  strength  and  in  vigor.  All  else 
has  gone,  as  well  thy  dower  as  thy  earnings.  Thou 
hast  but  these  left.     I  want  them  ;    so  give  them  me." 

Royal  Munich  also  had  his  share.  The  relict  of  Lola 
Monies  did  to  the  temple  at  Egina  what  Lord  Elgin 
did  to  the  Parthenon,  inflicting  worse  damage  upon  its 
architecture.  At  the  time,  the  unsettled  state  of  the  coun- 
tiy,  and  the  desire  to  preserve  things  so  costly  and  beau- 
tiful, may  be  accepted  as  excuses  for  such  acts.  But 
when  Greece  shall  have  a  museum  fit  to  preserve  the 
marbles  now  huddled  in  the  Theseum,  or  left  exposed  on 
the  highways,  then  she  may  demand  back  the  Elgin 
and  Bavarian  marbles.  She  will  then  deserve  to  receive 
them  again.  Nor  could  she,  methinks,  do  better  than 
devote  to  this  noble  purpose  some  of  the  superfluous  ex- 
tent of  Otho's  monstrous  palace,  whose  emptiness  afliicts 
the  visitor  with  sad  waste  of  room  and  of  good  material. 
Making  all  allowance  for  the  removal  of  the  Penates  of 
its  late  occupants,  it  is  still  obvious  that  these  two  lux- 
urious wrens  occu])ied  but  a  small  portion  of  this  eagle's 
nest.  A  fine  gallery  could  as  easily  be  spared  from  its 
endless  apartments  as  are  the  public  galleries  from  the 
Vatican. 

Nor  should  this  new  kingling  and  his  Russian  bride 
be  encouraged  to  people  such  an  extent  of  masonry  with 
smai't  aid-de-camps,  lying  diplomats,  and  plundering 
stewards  and  dames  d'ho7ineur.     For    pity's    sake,  let 


I74  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

the  poor  kingdom  have  a  modest  representative,  who 
shall  follow  the  spirit  of  modern  reform,  and  administer 
the  people's  revenues  with  elean  hands.  A  sculpture 
gallery,  therefore,  in  the  palace  by  all  means,  open  to  the 
public,  as  are  the  galleries  of  Italian  palaces.  And 
these  marbles  in  the  Theseum  and  elsewhere  —  lie  upon 
them  !  Not  only  are  they  so  crowded  that  one  cannot 
see  them,  but  so  dirty  that  one  cannot  discern  their  fea- 
tures. "  Are  they  marble?"  one  asks,  for  a  thick  coat- 
ing of  the  sand  and  dust  in  which  they  were  embodied 
for  ages  still  envelops  them,  and  can  only  1k'  removed 
b}'  careful  artistic  intervention. 

A  lillle  monev,  please,  k\u'j^  and  PaiTKunciit,  for  these 
unhappy  ones.  The  gift  would  repay  itself  in  tlie  enil, 
for  a  respectable  collection  of  autlientic  Greek  remains 
on  the  very  soil  in  which  they  were  found  would  biing 
here  many  of  the  wide-ranging  students  of  art  and  an- 
tiquity. A  little  money,  please,  for  good  investment  is 
good  economy.  Moreover,  despite  the  velvet  Hatterics 
and  smiling  treasons  of  diplomacy,  the  present  govern- 
ment of  Greece  is,  as  every  government  should  be,  on 
good  behavior  before  the  people.  Wonderfully  clever, 
enterprising,  and  libci'al  lia\e  the  Frencii  people  made 
the  author  of  the  Life  of  Julius  Ciesar.  Wonderfully 
reformative  did  the  radicals  of  twenty  years  since  make 
the  pope.  And  the  Greek  nation,  taken  in  the  large, 
may  prove  to  have  some  common  sense  to  impart  to  its 
symbolical  head,  of  whom  wc  can  only  hope  that  the 
something  rotten  in  the  state  of  Denmark  may  not  have 
been  taken  from  it  to  corrupt  the  state  of  Greece. 


expeditions nauplia.  1 75 

Expeditions  —  Nauplia. 

A  few  clays  of  midsummer  passed  in  Aljiens  make 
welcome  any  summons  that  calls  one  out  of  it.  Majes- 
tic as  the  past  is,  one  likes  to  have  its  grim  skeleton  a 
little  cushioned  over  by  the  esthetic  of  the  present,  and, 
at  the  present  season,  this  is  not  to  be  had,  even  in  its 
poorest  and  cheapest  forms.  The  heat,  moreover,  though 
tempered  by  healthful  breezes,  is  yet  of  a  kind  and  de- 
gree to  tell  heavily  upon  a  northern  constitution.  To 
take  exercise  of  any  kind,  between  ten  A.  M.  and  six 
P.  M.,  is  uncomfortable  and  far  from  safe.  How  de- 
lightful, therefore,  to  pack  one's  little  budget,  and  start 
upon  a  cruise ! 

For  the  government,  we  must  confess,  is  very  hospi- 
table to  us.  Our  chief  veteran  goes  about  to  distribute 
clothing  to  the  Cretan  refugees,  who,  in  advanced  stages 
of  nakedness,  congregate  in  Egina,  Syra,  Argos,  and 
other  places,  as  well  as  in  Athens.  And  he  asks  the 
government,  and  the  government  lends  its  steamer,  the 
Parados,  for  the  philanthropic  voyage.  So  we  drive 
down  to  the  Pireo  and  embark,  and  are  on  our  way.  A 
pleasant  little  Athenian  lady  accompanies  us,  together 
with  her  father,  a  Cretan  by  birth,  and  a  man  who  has 
been  much  in  the  service  of  the  government.  Our  trav- 
elling library  for  this  occasion  is  reduced  to  a  copy  of 
Macchiavelli's  Principe,  a  volume  of  Muir's  Greece,  and 
a  Greek  phrase-book  on  Ollendorff's  principle.  We 
have  also  some  worsted  work  ;  but  one  of  us,  the  writer 
of  these  notes,  has  added  to  these  another  occupation, 
another  interest. 


176  FROM     THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

Take  nolo  that  the  beds  of  the  hotel  at  Athens  are 
defended  by  mosquito-nets,  which  show,  here  and  there, 
the  marks  of  age.  Take  note  that  we  close  these  net- 
tings the  first  night  a  little  carelessly,  remembering 
Cuba,  and  expecting  nothing  worse.  Take  note  that 
\vc  neither  wear  gloves  at  night,  nor  bandage  our  arms* 
and  wrists,  and  then  take  note  of  what  follows. 

A  fiery  stinging  of  needle  points  in  every  accessible  part 
of  your  body.  Each  new  bite  is  like  a  new  star  of  tor- 
ment in  the  milky  way  of  your  corporeal  repose.  These 
creatures  warn  not,  like  the  honest  American  mosquito, 
rattlesnake,  or  bore,  of  their  intended  descent  upon  you. 
In  comparison  with  their  silent  impudence,  the  familiar 
humming  of  our  Yankee  torments  becomes  an  apolo- 
getic murmur,  significant  of,  "  We  are  very  sorry  indeed, 
but  we  cannot  well  do  otherwise."  This  is  the  lan- 
guage of  the  dun  —  the  Greek  insect  has  the  quietof 
the  thief. 

So  much  for  the  action  ;  now  for  the  result.  You 
awake  uncomfortably,  and,  provoked  here  and  there,  be- 
gin to  retort  upon  your  skin  a  little.  Never  was  more 
salient  illustration  of  the  doctrine  of  the  forgiveness  of 
injuries.  Let  by-goncs  be  by-gones ;  sufier  the  bites  to 
rest.  Ah  !  the  warning  comes  too  late.  The  fatal  pro- 
cess has  begun.  ^Vt  every  touch  you  get  worse,  but 
cannot  stop.  You  now  realize  what  a  good  gift  your 
Anglo-Saxon  skin  was,  and  so  clean,  and  so  com- 
fortable !  and  it  cost  you  so  little  !  But  just  because  it 
was  so  good,  these  foreign  vermin  insisted  on  sharing  it 
with  you.     And  you  exemplify  in  little  the  fate  of  Italy 


EXPEDITIONS  —  NAUPLIA.  1 77 

and  of  Greece,  which  have  been  feasted  on  for  ages,  and 
cursed  by  the  absokite  mosquito  for  not  continuing  in 
perpetuity  to  yield  their  life-blood  without  remonstrance. 
This  for  the  moral  aspect  of  the  case.  The  material 
aspect  is  that  of  intolerable  pain  and  itching,  accompa- 
nying a  distinct  suppuration  of  every  spot  punctured 
by  the  insect.  For  some  days  and  nights  the  principal 
occupation  of  the  writer  of  these  notes  was  to  tear  the 
unhappy  hands  and  arms  that  aid  in  their  production. 
A  remedy  is  casually  mentioned  —  vinegar.  Bandages 
dipped  in  this  fluid,  and  closely  wrapped  around  the 
suffering  members,  give  instant  relief,  but  have  to  be 
frequently  renewed,  the  fever  of  the  skin  rapidly  drying 
them.  The  sufferings  of  Job  were  now  understood,  and 
his  eminent  but  impossible  virtue  appreciated.  Even 
he,  however,  had  recourse  to  a  potsherd.  Never  were 
my  human  sympathies  so  called  out  towards  the  afflicted 
Scotch  nation  !  Well,  let  this  subject  rest.  Recovery  is 
now  an  established  fact.  From  the  height  of  experience 
we  can  look  down  upon  future  suflerers  and  say,  "  This, 
too,  shall  pass  away." 

But  now,  to  return  to  the  deck  of  the  Parados. 
Scenery,  worsted  work,  the  Principe,  and  a  little  conver- 
sation caused  the  time  to  pass  very  agreeably.  We  took 
also  the  Ollendorff  book,  and  made  a  short  trial  of  its 
lumbering  machinery.  And  we  had  dejeuner  on  board, 
and  dinner.  And  Georgi,  the  cameriere,  had  the  features 
of  Edwin  Booth  —  the  strong  eyes,  the  less  forcible 
mouth,  something  even  of  the  general  expression.  At 
about  7.30  P.  INI.,  we  made  the  harbor  of  Nauplia,  oth- 

13 


17b  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

crwisc  called  Xupoli  do  Roinanui.  The  harbor  being 
shallow,  the  steamer  anchored  at  some  distance  from  the 
land,  whither  its  boats  conveyed  lis.  On  the  quay  stood 
a  crowd  of  people,  waiting  to  see  us.  They  had  dis- 
cerned the  steamer  afar,  and  had  flocked  together  from 
mere  curiosity.  Something  in  the  landing  made  mc 
think  of  that  portion  of  the  quay  at  Naples  which  lies 
before  the  Hotel  de  Russic.  ISIuch  of  the  present  town 
was  built  by  the  Tmks.  The  streets  are  narrow  and 
irregular,  and  many  of  the  houses  have  balconies.  One 
of  these  streets  is  nearly  blocked  by  a  crowd.  We  in- 
quire, and  learn  that  the  head  of  a  brigand  has  just  been 
brought  in.  For  the  brigands,  long  tolerated  in  some 
regions  by  usage  and  indolence,  have  now  set  foot  in  a 
region  in  which  they  will  not  be  endured.  The  Pelo- 
ponnesus will  not  have  them,  and  the  peasants,  who 
elsewhere  aid  the  brigands,  here  aid  the  ^c;^^  d''arvics. 
Upon  the  head  of  their  leader,  Kitzos,  a  large  price  has 
been  set.  But  the  head  which  causes  the  commotion  of 
this  evening  is  not  that  of  Kitzos.  Getting  through  the 
crowd  at  length,  we  come  upon  a  pretty  square,  sur- 
rounded by  houses,  and  planted  with  pepper-trees. 

Here  is  the  house  of  the  prefect,  at  whose  door  we 
knock,  imploring  shelter.  Our  Cretan  friend,  M.  Anto- 
niades,  is  well  known  to  the  prefect ;  hence  the  daring  of 
this  summons.  The  prefecture  receives  us.  The  jjrefcct 
—  a  vivacious  little  man,  with  blue  eyes  and  light  hair  — 
capers  about  in  great  excitement.  He  has  to  do  with 
the  war  against  the  brigands,  and  joy  at  the  bringing 
in  of  the  head  before  mentioned  nearly  causes  him  to 


EXPEDITIONS  —  NAUPLIA.  1 79 

lose  his  own.  His  large  salon  is  thronged  with  visit- 
ors, who  come  partly  to  talk  over  these  matters,  partly 
to  see  the  strangers.  -We,  the  ladies,  meanwhile  take 
refuge  on  a  roomy  balcony,  where  we  have  chairs,  and 
where  gllko  and  cold  water  are  offered  to  us.  I  make 
my  usual  piteous  request  for  vinegar,  and  renew  my 
bandages,  while  the  others  enjoy  cool  air  and  starlight. 
The  prefect  goes  off  to  supper  at  nine,  having  first  sig- 
nified to  us  that  his  wife  is  occupied  with  a  baby  two 
days  old,  and  cannot  wait  upon  us ;  that  his  house  is 
at  our  disposal,  and  that  he  will  send  out  among  his 
neighbors  and  obtain  all  that  we  may  require.  One 
of  his  visitors  —  M.  Zampacopolus,  a  major  of  cavalry 
—  promises  to  wait  upon  us  at  five  in  the  morning,  to 
conduct  us  up  the  steep  ascent  of  the  fortress  Palamides. 
By  ten  o'clock  the  mattresses  are  brought.  They  are 
spread  in  a  row  on  the  floor,  and  we  w^eary  women, 
four  in  number,  lie  down  and  sleep  as  only  weary  peo- 
ple can. 

The  summons  that  arouses  us  at  five  the  next  morn- 
ing does  not  awaken  enthusiasm.  We  struggle  up, 
however,  and  get  each  a  minimum  of  the  limited  basin 
and  towel  privilege.  Descending,  we  find  Major  Zam- 
pacopolus in  full  uniform,  and  are  admonished  by  him 
for  being  so  late.  He  came  for  us  at  four  o'clock ; 
but  the  chief  veteran  would  not  suffer  us  to  be  disturbed. 
The  sun  had  already  risen,  and  the  ascent  looked  most 
formidable.  Invoking  the  courage  of  our  ancestors,  we 
unfolded  the  umbrellas  and  began.  We  had  six  hun- 
dred steps  to  climb,  and  steep  ones  at  that.     The  labor 


iSo  FROM    Tin:    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE, 

caused  such  perspiration  that  at  any  turn  commanding 
the  breeze  we  were  f<jrced  to  shield  oiu'selvcs,  the  sud- 
den evaporation  being  attended  with  great  danger.  The 
ascent  is  everywhere  guarded  by  loopholes  for  musketry, 
and  could  not  be  carried  by  any  party  of  human  assail- 
ants. There  is,  however,  another  route  of  access  to 
the  fortress,  which  may  be  pursued  on  horseback.  It 
was  by  this  latter  path  that  the  Greeks  ascended  during 
the  war  of  independence.  They  took  the  fortress  from 
the  Turks,  but  were  admitted  within  the  gates  by  treach- 
ery. After  weary  etlorts  and  pauses,  we  reach  the  plane 
of  the  main  structure,  which  consists  of  a  number  of 
independent  bastions  in  strong  positions,  commanding 
each  other  and  the  pass.  It  was  built  by  the  Venetians, 
and  vouches  for  tlieir  skill  and  thoroughness  in  military 
architecture.  The  officers  receive  us,  and  accommo- 
date us  in  an  airy  bedroom,  whose  draughts  of  air  wc 
avoid,  being  en  itage  with  perspiration.  We  cool  by 
degrees,  and  enjoy  the  balcony.  A  pot  of  basil  is 
onered  us  for  fragrance,  at  which  we  smell  with  little 
pleasure.  We  are  then  told  the  legend  of  the  discovery 
of  the  true  cross  beneath  a  growth  of  this  plant,  which 
circumstance  consecrates  it  among  Eastern  traditions 
forever.  In  the  mean  time  a  functionary  enters,  and 
furtively  carries  away  a  small  box.  Not  very  long 
aflcrwanls  its  contents  arc  returned  in  the  shape  of  a 
cup  of  delicious  cofTee  for  each  of  us,  with  a  piece  of 
the  ration  bread  of  the  garrison.  "  This  bread,"  said 
the  major,  "  is  made  with  the  hands,  as  we  know,  for 
it  is  made  by  the  soldiers  ;  but  the  Ijiead  you  commonly 


NAUPLIA.  Ibl 

eat  in  Greece  is  made  with  the  feet."  Here  was  indeed 
a  heightening  of  present  enjoyment  by  a  somewhat  un- 
welcome disparagement  of  unavoidable  past  and  future 
experiences.  We  now  proceeded  to  visit  the  bastions 
in  detail.  Each  of  them  has  its  own  name.  One  is 
called  Miltiades.  The  most  formidable  one  is  called 
Satan.  The  view  from  the  highest  parapet  is  very 
gi-and.  We  go  about,  wondering  at  the  grim  walls  and 
the  manifold  openings  for  musketry.  They  show  us 
an  enormous  cistern  for  rain  water.  The  place  con- 
tains several  of  these,  and  is  thus  capable  of  standing 
a  very  long  siege.  We  pass  an  enclosure  in  which  are 
detained  "  the  military  prisoners,"  whoever  they  may 
be.  As  a  bonne  bouche  we  are  promised  a  sight  of  the 
criminals  condemned  to  death.  These  are  kept  in  the 
strongest  recess  of  the  fortress.  They  lead  us  to  it,  and 
bid  us  look  down  into  a  court  below,  in  which  we  per- 
ceive twenty-five  or  more  unfortunates  refreshing  them- 
selves in  the  open  air.  At  the  door  and  grated  window 
of  the  prison  behind  them  appear  the  faces  of  others. 
Stationed  on  a  narrow  bridge  above  stand  the  military 
guard,  whose  muskets  command  the  court.  These  men 
have  all  been  convicted  of  crimes  of  violence  against 
the  person.  Sentence  has  been  passed  upon  them,  and 
its  execution  follows  the  convenience  and  pleasure  of 
the  officers  of  the  law.  At  short  intervals  a  little  group 
of  them  is  led  out  to  endure  the  last  penalty,  "  Do  not 
pity  them,  madam,"  said  the  major ;  "  they  have  all 
done  deeds  worthy  of  death."  But  how  not  to  pity 
them,  when  they  and  we  are  made  of  the  same  fragile 


iSa  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

Iniinan  stulT,  that  corrupts  so  easily  to  crime,  and  is 
always  icdccmaljlc,  if  society  would  only  ailbrd  the 
costly  process  of  redemption.  A  sad  listlessncss  hun^ 
over  the  melancholy  group.  Some  of  them  were  busied 
in  preparing  breakfast — coflee,  probably.  Most  of 
them  sat  or  stood  quite  idly,  with  tlie  terrible  guns 
bristling  above  them.  They  looked  up  in  our  women's 
faces  as  if  they  sought  there  something,  some  compas- 
sionate glance  that  might  recall  mother  or  sweetheart 
—  if  such  i^eople  have  them.  One  old  brigand  lifted 
his  voice,  and  petitioned  the  officers  that  his  single  daily 
hour  of  fresh  air  might  be  extended  to  two  hours,  plead- 
ing the  pain  he  sutlbred  in  his  eyes.  This  was  granted. 
Our  guides  directed  our  attention  to  a  man  of  elastic 
figure  and  marked  face  —  tall,  athletic,  and  blond.  All 
that  they  could  tell  us  was,  that  there  seemed  to  be 
something  remarkable  about  this  man,  as,  indeed,  his 
appearance  indicated.  In  his  face,  more  than  in  those 
of  the  others,  we  observed  the  blank  that  Hope  leaves 
when  her  light  is  extinguished.  All  days,  all  things, 
were  alike  to  him  now  ;  the  dark,  close  prison  behind, 
before  him  only  the  day  when  one  in  command  shall 
say,  "This  is  thy  last!"  If  the  priest  shall  then  have 
any  hidden  comfort  to  bestow  upon  him  !  I^liadc  of 
Jesus,  we  will  hojie  so  ! 

These  men,  however,  go  to  death  \vith  liold  dcllance, 
singing  and  laughing.  A  rude  s)  mpathy  and  admira- 
tion from  the  multitude  gives  them  the  last  thrill  of 
pleasure.  As  I  looked  at  them,  I  was  struck  by  a  feel- 
ing of  their  helplessness.     What  is  there   in  the  world 


ARGOS.  I  S3 

SO  helpless  as  a  disarmed  criminal?  No  inner  armor 
has  he  to  beat  back  the  rude  visiting  of  society ;  no 
secure  soul-citadel,  where  scorn  and  anger  cannot  reach 
him.  He  has  thrown  away  the  jewel  of  his  manhood  ; 
human  law  crushes  its  empty  case.  But  the  final  Pos- 
sessor and  Creditor  is  unseen. 

In  our  wanderings  we  catch  glimpses  of  a  pretty 
little  garden,  disposed  in  terraces,  and  planted  with 
flowers,  vegetables,  and  vines.  This  garden  recalls  to 
memory  a  gentle-hearted  commandant  who  planted  it, 
loving  flowers,  and  therefore  not  hating  men.  It  is  a 
little  gone  to  decay  since  he  left  it,  but  its  presence  here 
is  a  welcome  and  useful  boon.  After  visiting  its  beds 
and  borders,  we  take  leave  of  the  hospitable  oflicers, 
and  by  I'apid  and  easy  descent  return  to  the  prefecture, 
where  the  breakfast-table  is  set,  and  where  a  large  tea- 
pot and  heaped  dish  of  rice  attest  the  hospitable  efforts 
of  our  host. 

I  have  only  forgotten  to  say  that  on  one  of  the  ram- 
parts of  the  fortress  they  showed  us  two  old  Venetian 
cannon,  both  of  which  served  in  the  last  revolution  ; 
and  further,  that,  in  returning,  passing  through  the  old 
gate  of  the  town,  we  saw  sculptured  in  stone  the  winged 
lion  of  St.  ]\Iark,  the  valorous  device  of  Venice. 

Argos. 

We  found  the  prefect  at  the  very  maximum  of  excite- 
ment. Another  telegram  concerning  the  brigands,  and 
yet  another.  Kitzos  is  closely  beleaguered  by  peasants 
and  gens-d'armes  ;  he  cannot  get  away.     Another  head 


1S4  FROM    Till!    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVK. 

will  be  brought  in,  and  the  coimtiy  will  be  free  of  its 
scourge.  With  nuich  jumping  up  and  declaiming,  our 
entertainer  shared  the  morning  meal  with  us.  We  feed 
the  discontented  servant,  wiiose  views  of  life  appeared 
to  be  dismal,  kissed  the  sweet-eyed  children  of  the  fam- 
ily, and,  as  a  party,  leaped  into  two  carriages,  leaving 
the  prefect  intent  upon  welcoming  with  grim  hospitality 
the  prospective  heads  of  bandits,  which  did  not  hinder 
him  from  shaking  hands  with  us,  cordially  inviting  us 
to  return  to  the  shelter  of  his  roof.  But  shelter  was  not 
for  us  under  any  roof,  save  the  ambulating  cover  of  the 
carriage.  We  were  now  en  route  for  Argos.  Our 
drivers  were  clothed  alike,  in  well-worn  bags  of  blue 
homespun,  peaked  babouches  without  stockings,  and 
handkerchiefs  bound  about  the  head.  The  thermom- 
eter was  ranging  in  tlie  upper  regions.  Dust  and  ovcr- 
\vhelming  heat  assail  us.  Stopping  to  water  the  well- 
flogged  horses,  we  take  refuge  for  a  few  minutes  in  a 
shady  garden,  planted  with  flowers,  vines,  and  merciful 
trees  with  flat,  nut  pointed,  foliage.  We  sit  around  a 
tiny  fountain,  at  whose  small  spouts  the  smaller  bees 
refresh  themselves  on  the  wing.  This  sojourn  is  brief; 
our  next  halt  is  on  the  burning,  dusty  high-road,  where 
the  chief  veteran  says,  "  Tiryns,"  and  leads  a  very  for- 
lorn hope  across  thorny  fields  and  stony  ditches  to  a 
Cyclopean  ruin  —  a  side  and  angle  of  oUl  wall,  built 
after  the  manner  so  denominated,  and  so  solidly  that  it 
outlasts  at  least  three  thousand  years,  Wc  stand  and 
consider  this  grim  old  remnant  as  long  and  as  atten- 
tively   as    the    fear    of    sun-stroke    will    peiinit.       Tlie 


ARGOS.  185 

veteran,  however,  leads  us  farther  in  pursuit  of  a  cave 
in  which,  during  the  war  of  Greek  independence,  he 
was  wont  to  seek  shelter  from  sun  and  rain.  This  cave 
is  probably  one  of  the  galleries  of  the  ancient  fortress ; 
for  that  the  ruin  was  a  fortress,  they  say  who  know. 
It  is  perhaps  twenty  yards  in  length,  and  three  in  its 
greatest  height ;  for  it  has  a  pointed  roof,  laboriously 
formed  by  the  fitting  and  approximation  of  the  two 
sides,  no  arch  being  then  invented.  The  stones  that 
form  this  roof  are  very  large,  rather  broken  than  hewn, 
and  are  laid  together  with  great  care.  Some  of  them 
are  of  very  hard  material.  From  these  most  venerable 
relics  we  creep  back,  under  the  deadly  fire  of  the  sun,  to 
the  carriage.  The  remainder  of  our  drive  leads  across 
the  plain  of  Argos,  the  "  courser  feeding,"  as  Homer 
denominates  it.  We  come  in  sight  of  its  lofty  Aci-op- 
olis  long  before  we  reach  the  town,  through  whose 
narrow,  streets  we  drive,  and  after  a  brief  pause  at  the 
prefecture,  find  rest  and  shelter  in  a  private  house. 

The  proprietors  of  this  house  ranked  among  the  best 
people  of  the  place  —  ol  megalol^  as  the  multitude  naively 
denominate  them.  They  received  us  in  a  large  salon 
without  carpets,  darkened  by  green  blinds,  and  furnished 
with  a  mahogany  centre  table  and  chairs,  all  of  a  Euro- 
pean pattern,  with  a  cushioned  divan  occupying  one 
corner  of  the  room,  according  to  the  favorite  fashion  of 
these  parts.  The  lady  of  the  house  wore  a  dress  of 
ordinary  figured  jacconet,  open  at  the  neck,  and  a  red 
fez,  around  which  her  own  hair  was  bound  in  a  braid. 
Her  husband  appeared   in  full  Palicari  dress,  with  an 


lS6  FROM    TIIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

irrcpproachablc  fustanella,  and  liandsomc  jacket  and 
leggings.  They  welcomed  us  with  great  cordiality, 
and  bestirred  themselves  to  minister  to  our  necessities. 
Gliko  and  water  were  immediately  brought  us,  together 
with  the  vinegar  for  my  fevered  hands.  We  next 
begged  for  mattresses,  which  were  brought  ami  spread 
on  the  floor  of  a  bedroom  adjoining.  The  four  femi- 
nines,  as  usual,  dropped  down  in  a  row.  In  the  draw- 
ing-room mattresses  were  arranged  for  the  gentlemen. 
We  rested  from  1-.30  initil  2  V.  M.,  the  hour  ap- 
pointed for  the  distribution  of  clothing  to  the  destitute 
Cretans,  of  whom  there  is  a  large  settlement  at  Argos. 
For  I  may  as  well  mention  here  that  our  pursuit  of 
pleasures  and  antiquities  in  the  terms  of  this  expedition 
was  entirely  secondary  to  the  plans  of  our  veteran  for 
clothing  tlie  nakedness  of  these  poor  exiles.  In  his 
energetic  company  we  now  walked  to  a  large  build- 
ing with  court  enclosed  —  a  former  convent,  in  whose 
corridors  our  eager  customers,  restrained  by  one  or  two 
oflicials,  Avere  in  waiting.  We  were  ushered  into  a  well- 
sized  room,  in  which  lay  heaps  of  cotton  under-clothing, 
and  of  calico  dresses,  most  of  them  in  the  shape  of 
sacks  and  skirts.  These  were  the  contents  of  one  or 
two  boxes  recently  arrived  from  Boston.  Some  of  them 
were  recognized  as  having  connection  with  a  hive  of 
busy  bees  who  used  to  gather  weekly  in  our  own  New 
England  parlor.  And  what  stress  there  was !  and 
what  hurrying !  And  how  the  little  maidens  took  oft' 
their  feathery  boimets  and  dainty  gloves,  wielding  the 
heavy  implements  of  cutting,  and  eagerly  adjusting  the 


ARGOS.  1S7 

arms  and  legs,  tke  gores  and  gathers !  With  patient 
pride  the  mother  trotted  ofi'  to  the  bakery,  that  a  few 
buns  might  sustain  these  strenuous  little  cutters  and 
sewers,  whose  tongues,  however  active  over  the  chari- 
table work,  talked,  we  may  be  sure,  no  empty  nonsense 
nor  unkind  gossip.  For  charity  begins  indeed  at  home, 
in  the  heart,  and,  descending  to  the  fingers,  rules  also  the 
rebellious  member  whose  mischief  is  often  done  before 
it  is  meditated.  At  the  sight  of  these  well-made  gar- 
ments a  little  swelling  of  the  heart  seized  us,  with  the 
love  and  pride  of  remembrance  so  dear.  But  sooner 
than  we  could  turn  from  it  to  set  about  our  business,  the 
Cretans  were  in  presence. 

Here  they  come,  called  in  order  from  a  list,  with 
names  nine  syllables  long,  mostly  ending  in  poulos^  a 
term  signifying  descent,  like  the  Russian  "  witzch." 
Here  they  come,  the  shapely  maiden,  the  sturdy  matron, 
the  gray-haired  grandmother,  with  little  ones  of  all 
small  sizes  and  ages.  INIany  of  the  women  carried 
infants  at  the  breast ;  many  were  expectant  of  mater- 
nity. Not  a  few  of  them  were  followed  by  groups  of 
boys  and  girls.  Most  of  them  were  ill-clothed  ;  many 
of  them  appeared  extremely  destitute  of  attire.  A 
strong,  marked  race  of  people,  with  powerful  eyes, 
fine  black  hair,  healthy  complexions,  and  symmetrical 
figures.  They  bear  traces  of  suffering.  Some  of  the 
intants  have  pined  ;  but  most  of  them  promise  to  do 
well.  Each  mother  cherishes  and  shows  her  little  beg- 
gar in  the  approved  way.  The  children  are  usually 
robust,    although    showing    in    their    appearance    the 


l88  FUOM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

very  limited  resources  of  tlieir  parents.  Some  of  the 
women  liavc  tolerable  j^owns ;  to  these  we  give  only 
inKler-ck)thiiig.  Others  have  but  the  rag  of  a  gown  — 
a  few  stripes  of  stuirover  their  coarse  chemises.  These 
we  make  haste  to  cover  with  the  beneficent  growth  of 
New  England  factories.  They  are  admitted  in  groups 
of  three  or  four  at  a  time.  As  many  of  us  fly  to  the  heaps 
of  clothing,  and  hastily  measure  them  by  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  individual.  A  papa,  or  priest, 
keeps  order  among  them.  lie  wears  his  black  hair 
uncut,  a  narrow  robe  much  patclied,  and  liolds  in  his 
hand  a  rosary  of  beads,  which  he  fingers  mechanically. 
We  work  at  this  chstribution  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and 
return  to  the  house  to  take  some  necessary  refreshment. 
We  find  a  dinn-cr-table  set  for  us  in  one  of  the  sleeping- 
rooms,  and  arc  cordially  invited  to  partake  of  fish  cooked 
in  oil,  bread,  acrid  cheese,  cucumbers,  olives,  and  cherries, 
together  with  wine  which  our  Greek  companions  praised 
'as  highly  stomachic,  but  which  to  us  seemed  at  once  bit- 
ter, sour,  and  insipid  —  a  wine  without  either  sugar  or 
sparkle,  dull  as  a  drug,  suflicient  of  itself  to  overthrow 
the  whole  Bacchic  dispensation.  Having  enjoyed  the 
repast,  we  returned  to  the  Cretan  settlement,  antl  contin- 
ued the  distribution  of  theclothing  until  all  were  provided. 
The  dresses  did  not  quite  hold  out,  but  sulliced  to  sup- 
ply the  most  needy,  and,  in  fact,  the  greater  number. 
Of  the  under-clothes  we  carried  back  a  portion,  having 
given  to  every  one.  To  an  old  papa  (priest)  who  came, 
looking  ill  and  disconsolate,  I  sent  two  shirts  and  a  good 
dark   woollen   jacket.      Among  all  of   these,  only  one 


ARGOS.  1S9 

discontented  old  lady  demurred  at  the  gift  bestowed. 
She  wanted  a  gown,  but  there  was  none ;  so  that  she 
was  forced  to  content  herself,  much  against  her  will,  with 
some  under-clothing.  The  garments  supplied,  of  which 
many  were  sent  by  the  Boston  Sewing  Circle,  under  the 
superintendence  of  Miss  Abby  W.  May,  proved  to  be 
very  suitable  in  pattern  and  in  quality.  The  good  taste 
of  their  assortment  gave  them  an  air  of  superiority  over 
the  usual  dress  of  the  poor  in  this  and  other  countries 
of  the  old  world.  The  proportion  of  children's  cloth- 
ing was  insufficient ;  but  who  could  have  foreseen  that  the 
Cretans  would  have  had  such  large  families  of  such  little 
children?  Finally,  we  rejoiced  in  the  philanthropic 
energy  of  our  countrywomen,  and  in  the  good  appear- 
ance of  our  domestic  manufactures.  As  we  descended 
the  steps,  we  met  with  some  of  the  children,  already 
arrayed  in  their  little  clean  shirts,  and  strutting  about  with 
the  inspiration  of  fresh  clothing,  long  unfelt  by  them. 

We  now  went  on  foot  to  visit  a  fine  amphitheatre  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  town,  called  by  the  ignorant 
•'  the  tomb  of  Helen."  The  seats  are  hewn  out  of 
the  solid  rock,  and  occupy  the  whole  ascent  of  a  lofty 
hill-side.  From  the  ground  to  the  middle  row  they 
were  faced  with  fine  white  marble.  The  remainder  con- 
sisted simplj-  of  the  stone  itself,  without  covering.  The 
division  first  mentioned  is  in  better  condition  than  the 
second,  the  marble  incasement  having  protected  the 
softer  stone  against  the  action  of  the  elements.  In  front 
are  some  remains  which  probably  represent  the  stage 
and  its  background.     The  extent  embraced  is  unusually 


190  FROM    Tlin:    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

large  ;  and  as  we  sat  in  the  chief  scats  and  looked  towards 
the  proscenium,  we  wondered  a  little  as  to  what  man- 
ner of  entertainment  could  be  given  to  an  assembly 
so  vast.  The  ancient  masks  were  indeed  necessary 
to  enable  the  distant  portion  of  the  audience  to  have 
any  idea  of  the  expression  of  countenance  intended 
to  be  conveyed.  But  I  should  suppose  that  games 
of  strength  and  agility,  races,  combats  of  wild  beasts, 
would  have  been  best  suited  to  such  an  arena.  To 
us  it  was  sufficiently  melancholy  in  its  desertion  and 
desecration — grass  and  thorny  shrubs  growing  pro- 
fusely between  its  defaced  stones,  the  heavy  twilight 
forming  the  background,  while  the  stars  that  enlivened 
the  evening  were  real  ones,  not  their  human  symbols. 
As  we  descended,  however,  from  our  half  hour  of 
contemplation,  we  received  notice  of  the  incursion  of 
busy  western  life  even  into  this  charmed  domain.  In  a 
Held  hard  by,  a  threshing  machine  was  winnowing  the 
Argive  grain,  —  a  thing  of  wonder  to  the  inhabitants, 
probably  an  object  of  suspicion,  —  the  property  of 
a  rich  land-owner.  Beggars  are  rare  in  Greece;  but 
the  Argos  children  followed  us  both  to  and  from  the 
amphitheatre  with  mendicant  solicitations.  They  went 
thither  umler  the  plea  of  showing  us  the  way,  and  pur- 
sued our  return  under  that  of  being  paid  for  the  same. 
We  endeavored  to  satisfy  two  or  three  of  them  ;  but,  the 
whole  troop  following  and  tormenting,  one  of  our  com- 
panions appealed  in  Greek  to  the  parents,  as  we  passed 
their  thatched  dwellings.  These  called  oft'  the  little 
hounds  with  threats  of  the  bastinado.     We  reached  the 


ARGOS.  191 

hospitable  roof  of  our  entertainers,  first  taking  a  lem- 
onade at  a  little  booth  in  the  dark  street.  The  mattresses 
were  spread,  the  sick  hands  bathed,  and  we  lay  dovvn 
to  rest  as  we  could,  an  early  start  being  before  us.  A 
variety  of  insects  preyed  upon  us,  and  made  not  very 
unwelcome  the  dawning  of  the  early  hour  that  saw  us 
roused  and  dressed. 

But  here  I  have  forgotten  to  make  rriention  of  a  fact 
which  had  much  to  do  with  our  immediate  movements 
at  this  time.  The  evening  of  our  sojourn  in  Argos  saw 
an  excitement  much  like  that  which  blocked  the  street 
in  Nauplia.  The  occasion  was  the  same  — the  bringing 
home  of  a  brigand's  head  ;  but  this  the  very  head  and 
front  of  all  the  brigands,  KItzos  himself,  upon  whose 
head  had  been  set  a  prize  of  several  thousand  drachmas. 
Our  veteran  with  difficulty  obtained  a  view  of  the  same, 
and  reported  accordingly.  The  robber  chief,  the  origi- 
nal of  Edmond  About's  "  Hadji  Stauros,"  had  been  shot 
while  sighting  at  his  gun.  He  had  fallen  with  one  eye 
shut  and  one  open,  and  in  this  form  of  feature  his  dissev- 
ered head  remained.  The  soldier  who  was  its  fortunate 
captor  carried  it  concealed  in  a  bag,  with  its  long  elf- 
locks  lying  loose  about  it.  He  showed  it  with  some  un- 
willingness, fearing  to  have  the  prize  wrested  from  him. 
It  was,  however,  taken  on  board  of  our  steamer,  and 
carried  to  Athens,  there  to  be  identified  and  buried. 

All  this  imported  to  us  that  Mycenae,  which  we  de- 
sired to  visit,  had  for  some  time  been  considered  unsafe 
on  account  of  the  presence  of  this  very  Kitzos  and  his 
band.    But  at  this  moment  the  band  were  closely  besieged 


192  FROM    Tllli    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVK. 

ill  the  mountains.  They  wanted  their  Head,  and  so  ilid 
Kitzos.  We,  in  consequence,  were  fully  able  to  \\s\t  the 
treasure  of  Atrcus  and  the  ruins  of  Mycenaj  without  fear 
or  risk  from  those  acephalous  enemies.  Taking  leave 
therefore  of  our  friendly  entertainers  with  many  thanks, 
"polloi,  polloi,"  we  sprang  again  into  the  dusty  car- 
riages, and  the  sunburnt  youths  in  blue  bagging  drove  us 
out  upon  the  wide  plain  to  a  spot  where  wc  were  de- 
sired to  dismount  and  make  our  way  over  a  thorny  and 
flinty  hill-side  to  the  spot  in  question.  Such  walking,  in 
all  of  Greece  with  which  I  became  acquainted,  is  diihcult 
and  painful.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to  avoid  treading  on 
the  closely-growing  bushes  of  nettles.  To  come  in  con- 
tact with  these  is  like  putting  one's  foot  on  a  cushion  of 
needles  wliose  sharp  points  should  be  uppermost.  Where 
you  shun  these,  the  small,  pointed  stones  present  diffi- 
culty as  great.  Creeping  up  from  the  plain,  crying  out 
for  assistance  and  sympathy,  beneath  a  sun  already 
burning:,  we  came  to  the  entrance  of  the  cave  to 
which  they  give  the  name  of  the  tomb  of  Agamemnon. 
This  is  an  opening  in  the  hill-side.  Its  door  has  long 
been  wanting,  but  the  formidable  door-posts  still  remain.  , 
Two  heavily-built  stone  sides  support  a  single,  horizontal 
stone,  twenty-seven  feet  in  length,  by  perhaps  eight  in 
breadth,  and  about  the  same  in  thickness.  The  door  obvi- 
ously swung  open  from  the  bottom  ;  the  traces  in  the  stone- 
work make  this  clear.  The  cave  itself  is  hollowed  out 
from  the  height  and  depth  of  the  hill.  It  is  lined  with 
large  stones,  carefully  fitted  to  each  other,  and  is  in  the 
shape  of  a  rounded  cone,  whose  gradual   diminution  to 


ARGOS.  193 

the  top  is  very  symmetrical.  Here  a  small  aperture,  part- 
ly covered  by  a  stone,  admits  the  light.  The  perfection 
of  the  work  in  its  kind  is  singular.  From  this  outer 
chamber,  an  opening  admits  you  to  an  inner  cave,  with- 
out light,  in  which  they  suppose  the  treasure  to  have 
been  kept.  This  is  much  smaller  than  the  first  chamber, 
and,  like  it,  is  heavily  lined  with  squared  stone.  A  fire 
of  dry  brush  enables"  us  to  distinguish  so  much  ;  but  our 
observations  are  somewhat  hurried,  for  the  chill  of  these 
interterranean  passages,  acting  upon  ihe  perspiration 
that  bathes  our  limbs,  suggests  terrible  fears  of  an  un- 
timely end  to  be  attained  in  some  inflammatory  and 
painful  way. 

The  outer  structure,  of  which  I  have  endeavored  to 
give  some  idea,  is,  however,  indescribable,  and  the 
manner  of  its  building  scarcely  comprehensible  in  these 
days.  It  suggests  a  time  whose  art  must  be  as  far  re- 
moved from  ours  as  its  nature,  and  whose  solid  and  sim- 
ple construction  takes  little  heed  of  the  passage  of  time. 

From  the  treasure  of  Atreus  to  the  old  citadel  and 
gate  of  Myceuce,  we  pass,  by  a  few  painful  steps,  through 
thorns,  stones,  and  dust.  Here  we  sit  and  meditate,  as 
well  as  we  are  able.  Mycenae  was  in  ruins  in  Homer's 
time.  This  gate  and  citadel  go  back  at  least  to  the  time 
of  Agamemnon.  In  one  of  the  tragedies  of  Sophocles, 
Electra  and  Orestes  meet  before  the  gate  of  Mycenae, 
which  we  naturally  suppose  to  have  been  this  one.  Its 
heavy  stone  masonry  is  surmounted  by  a  curious  sculp- 
ture, a  bas-relief,  representing  two  lions  aspiring  to  a 
column  that  stands  between  them.     The  column  is  one 

13 


194  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

of  the  ancient  symbols  of  Apollo,  and  is  met  with  in 
some  of  the  coins  of  the  period.  Agamemnon,  Cassan- 
dra, Clytemnestra, —  this  trio  of  ghosts  will  serve  to  fill 
up  for  us  the  ancient  gateway.  Of  the  city  nothing  re- 
mains save  the  walls  of  the  citadel,  the  space  within 
being  now  piled  up  and  grassed  over  by  the  action  of  time. 
At  the  present  day,  this  citadel  would  be  of  little  avail, 
being  itself  commanded  by  an  adjacent  hill,  from  which 
artillery  would  soon  knock  it  into  pieces.  The  walls 
just  mentioned  are  solidly  built  of  squared  stone,  laid 
together  without  mortar.  The  briefness  of  our  time 
hurried  us  away  before  we  had  taken  in  half  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  spot.  But  so  it  was,  and  we  turned  with 
regret  from  a  mere  survey  of  objects  that  deserve  mucli 
study. 

We  were  now  to  find  our  way  back  to  Nauplia,  l)ut 
our  fasting  condition  compelled  us  to  pause  for  a  mo- 
ment at  a  little  khan,  whose  energetic  mistress  bestirred 
herself,  with  small  materials,  to  make  us  comfortable. 
The  morning  shadow  threw  her  window  in  the  dark. 
We  gathered  around  it,  escaping  for  the  moment  the 
scorching  heat  of  the  sun.  Near  us  a  traveller  on  a 
donkey  rested  himself  and  his  patient  beast.  The  little 
woman  had  blue  eyes  and  chestnut  hair,  bound  with  a 
handkerchief.  She  oflcred  us  cold  fish,  fried  in  oil, 
from  her  frying  pan.  Each  of  us  took  a  fish  by  the 
tail,  and  devoured  it  as  we  could.  Cucumbers  were 
next  handed  to  us.  Of  these  we  ate  with  salt,  which  the 
mistress  strewed  with  her  fingers  on  the  wooden  window- 
sill,  together  with  a  little  pepper.     Wine   ami  water  she 


ARGOS.  195 

dipped  out  for  us,  the  one  from  a  barrel,  the  other  from 
an  earthen  jar.  We  had  brought  with  us  two  large 
loaves  of  bread  from  Argos,  which  greatly  assisted  our 
pedestrian  meal.  The  mistress  rinsed  the  glasses  with 
her  own  hands,  not  over  clean.  When  we  had  eaten, 
she  poured  water  over  our  hands,  oflering  us  a  piece  of 
soap  and  a  towel.  As  we  laughed,  she  laughed — we 
at  her  want  of  accommodation,  she  probably  rejoicing 
in  its  sufficiency.  We  now  returned  to  our  carriages, 
and  drove  back  to  Naujolia,  and  through  Nauplia  down 
to  the  quay,  where  our  boats  were  waiting  for  us. 
The  remainder  of  the  da}'  we  passed  on  board  the 
steamer,  reaching  Porus  at  sunset,  and  going  on  shore 
to  visit  its  fine  arsenal,  and  narrow,  dirty  streets.  In  the 
arsenal,  with  other  heroes,  hangs  the  portrait  of  Boubou- 
lina,  the  famous  woman  who  did  such  good  naval  service 
in  the  war  of  Greek  independence.  She  commanded  a 
ship,  and  her  patriotic  eftbrts  were  acknowledged  by 
conferring  on  her  the  style  and  title  of  admiral. 

From  the  roof  of  the  arsenal  we  enjoyed  a  beautiful 
view  of  the  harbor.  The  town,  as  seen  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, has  rather  an  inviting  aspect.  On  a  nearer  view, 
it  offers  little  to  detain  the  traveller.  We  passed  along 
the  quay,  looking  at  the  groups  of  men,  occupied  with 
coffee  or  the  narghile,  and  soon  regained  our  boat 
and  steamer.  The  Greeks,  we  are  told,  give  Porus  a 
nickname  which  signifies  "  Pig-city,"  just  as  our  Cincin- 
nati is  sometimes  called  "  Porkopolls."  But  the  pigs  in 
Porus  are  human. 


196  ruom  the  oak.  to  the  olive, 

Egina. 

Wc  passed  tliis  niglit   on   board  of  the   steamer,  first 
supping    luxuriously   on   deck,  by  the   light  of  various 
lanterns  fastened  to  the  masts  and  bulwarks  of  the  ship. 
The  next  morning  saw  us  early  awake  and   on  foot  to 
visit  tlic  Temple  of  Egina.     The  steamer  came  io  anchor 
near  the  shore,  and  its  boats  soou  conveyed   us  to  land. 
We  found  on  the  shore  two  donkeys  with   pack-saddles, 
upon  which   two  of  us  adventured  to   ascend   the   long 
and  weary  eminence.     The   temple  is   one  of  the  most 
beautiful  remains  that  we  have  seen.     Its  columns  are 
of  the  noblest  Doric  structure.     A  number  of  them  are 
still    standing.       His    majesty  of  Munich    and    Montes 
robbed  this  temple,  at  some  convenient  moment  of  polit- 
ical confusion.     He  had  a  statue  or  so,  perhaps  several, 
and  pulled  down  the  architrave  to  obtain  tlie  bas-reliefs. 
Can  we  wonder  that  the  Greeks  do  not  punish  brigand- 
age after  such  royal  precedents  in  its  favor.     A  line  lion 
in    marble,  twenty  feet   in   length,  was   taken  from   this 
temple,  either  by  this  or  a  similar  marauding.     The  lion 
was  sawn  in  three  pieces,  that  it  might  be  more  conven- 
iently conveyed  by  boat.     But,  being  left  over  night,  the 
peasants,  in  their  rage,  came  and   destroyed  with  their 
hammers  what  they  wxrc  not  able  to  protect.       Here 
no   diplomatic  interference   was  possible,   and   the  fact 
accomplished  had  to  be  accepted. 

This  temple  stands  upon  one  of  those  breezy  emi- 
nences so  often  selected  by  the  Greeks  for  their  places 
of  worship  and  defence.     It  commands  a  wide  view  of 


EGINA.  197 

the  sea  and  surrounding  islands.  On  the  opposite 
island  of  Salamis  they  show  you  Xerxes'  Seat,  the  spot 
from  which  he  contemplated  the  land  he  intended  to 
enslave.  Here  the  inexorable  veteran  conceded  to  us  a 
pleasant  half  hour,  enabling  us  to  survey  the  fine 
columns  from  various  points  of  view,  and  to  enjoy  fully 
the  beauty  of  their  surroundings.  Too  soon,  however, 
came  the  summons  to  descend.  I  again  mounted  the 
ass,  but  found  my  sideward  and  unsupported  seat  only 
maintainable  by  a  gymnastic  of  the  severest  order.  I 
yielded,  therefore,  this  uneasy  accommodation  to  one  who 
might  bestride  the  beast  at  his  ease,  being  quite  of  the 
opinion  of  the  Irishman,  who,  having  been  regaled  with 
a  ride  in  a  bottomless  sedan  chair,  said  that,  if  it  was  not 
for  the  name  of  it,  it  was  not  much  better  than  walking. 
In  the  same  way  I  concluded  that  to  be  so  badly  carried 
by  the  ass  was  almost  as  bad  as  to  carry  him  myself. 
We  were  soon  on  board  and  afloat  again,  and  a  few  houi's 
of  sea  travel,  cherished  for  their  coolness,  brought  us 
back  to  busy  Pirteus,  and  thence  to  torrid  Athens, 
where  the  great  heats  now  begin.  We  had  meditated  a 
change  of  hotel  at  the  time  of  our  leaving  Athens,  and 
had  contemplated  a  fine  apartment  at  lower  charges  in 
an  establishment  opposite  to  our  own.  But  our  hitherto 
landlord  was  too  much  for  us.  He  was  down  at  Piraeus 
to  receive  us.  The  veteran  yielded  to  his  dangerous 
smile,  and  after  a  brief  parley,  implying  a  slight  enlarge- 
ment in  accommodations,  we  found  ourselves  bagged, 
and  carried  back  to  the  Hotel  des  Etrangers.  Here  the 
servants  cordially  welcomed  us,  and  made  us  much  at 


IC)S  rilOM    THE    OAK    TO    TIIK    OLIVE. 

home.  I  regretted  a  certain  beautifLil  view  of  the  Acrop- 
olis commaiuled  by  the  hotel  opposite,  but  my  view  was 
outvoted  ;  and  we  gave  ourselves  up  again  to  the  im- 
prisonment of  our  small  rooms,  and  to  the  darkness 
which  is  a  necessary  attendant  upon  summer  life  in 
Athens.  And  the  gallant  vision  of  the  Parados,  with  its 
prow  turned  to  the  sea,  and  of  lofty  climbings,  and  monu- 
nicpt-seeking  wanderings,  faded  from  all  but  these  notes, 
in  which  so  much  of  it  as  may  live  is  faithfully  preserved. 

Days  in  Athens. 

"As  idle  as  a  painted  ship 
Upon  a  painted  ocean." 

O,  there  were  many  of  them,  each  hotter  and  stiller 
than  the  other.  All  night  we  steamed  and  sleepily  suf- 
fered beneath  the  mosquito-net.  In  the  morning  we 
arose  betimes.  We  smiled  to  each  other  at  breakfast, 
sighed  at  dinner,  were  dumb  at  tea-time.  The  whole 
long  day  held  its  flaming  sword  at  our  door.  Sun-stroke 
and  fever  threatened  us,  should  we  cross  the  threshold. 
Visits  were  tame,  and  carriages  expensive.  For  many 
days  we  sat  still,  doing  little.  This  is  what  people  call 
"  being  thrown  upon  one's  own  resources."  But  to  those 
accustomed  to  active  and  energetic  life  it  is  rather  a  be- 
ing thrown  off  from  all  that  usually  renders  the  passage 
of  time  pleasurable  and  uscfid.  Even  those  didl  days 
had,  however,  llicir  distinctions.  And,  like  a  picture 
of  oiu"  Indian  simimer,  hazy,  dreamy,  and  intlistinct,  so 
will  I  try  to  give  a  aAor  pictine  of  that  miheroic  time, 
in  which  we  <fi'evv  imgratefid   for   classic   sinroundings, 


DAYS    IN    ATHENS.  I99 

forgetful  of  great  names  and  histories,  and  sat  and 
sewed,  and  said,  "  How  long?" 

First,  the  little  newsboys  in  the  street  who  shriek, 
'■'•  Pende  lepta!"  calling  the  price  of  the  paper  for  the 
paper  itself.  This  music  one  may  hear  at  any  hour  of 
the  day  when  there  is  news  from  Crete,  or  when  a 
steamer  has  arrived  from  England  for  the  Cretan  ser- 
vice, or  when  anything  takes  place  that  can  motive 
the  publishing  of  an  extra.  The  veteran  catches  one 
day  one  of  these  curious  little  insects.  He  is  bare- 
foot, his  hair  is  wild,  his  eyes  are  wilder.  His  extra  is 
a  single  column,  scarcely  ten  inches  long ;  and  over  this 
he  dares  to  make  as  much  noise  as  if  it  were  an  issue 
of  the  New  York  Herald,  or  the  Tribune  itself,  with 
white-haired  Greeley  at  its  back. 

Next,  the  funerals,  starting  always  with  music,  and 
bearing  flat  disks  of  gilded  metal,  something  in  the  style 
of  the  Roman  eagles.  At  one  time  a  mortality  pre- 
vailed among  children,  and  the  little  coffins  were  carried 
through  the  street,  with  mournful  sounds  of  wind  instru- 
ments. We  saw  several  military  funerals.  In  these  the 
deceased  is  carried  by  hand  in  a  crimson  velvet  coffin, 
bound  with  silver  lace.  A  glass  cover  shows  him  at 
full  length.  The  velvet  cover  that  corresponds  with  the 
coffin  itself  is  carried  before  in  an  upright  position. 
The  hearse,  drawn  by  four  or  five  horses,  follows. 
Priests  walk  along,  and  chant  prayers  in  the  intervals  of 
the  music,  which  on  these  occasions  is  supplied  by  a 
full  band.  A  body  of  soldiers  also  makes  part  of  the 
pageant.     Friends  and  relatives  walk  after,  carrying  the 


200  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

large  cambric  parasols  so  much  in  vogue  here.  As  the 
cemetery  is  at  some  distance  from  the  town,  the  hearse 
probably  serves  later  for  the  transport  of  the  body.  But 
I  from  my  window  always  saw  it  following  in  empty 
state.  The  friends  all  go  to  the  church,  where  the 
prayers  and  orations  occupy  from  one  to  two  hours. 
The  deceased  is  usually  in  full  dress,  and  the  counte- 
nance is  often  painted  in  white  and  red.  The  gilded 
symbols  which  are  carried,  and  the  wild  tones  of  the 
wind  instruments,  give  to  those  pi-ocessions  a  somewhat 
barbaric  aspect,  as  compared  with  the  sober  mourning  of 
countries  more  familiar  to  ourselves.  But  there  is  nothing 
grim  in  the  Greek  funeral ;  it  seems  rather  a  cheerful 
and  friendly  attendance,  and  compares  favorably  with 
the  luxe  of  English  burials,  their  ingenious  ugliness  and 
tasteless  exaggeration  of  all  that  is  gloomy  and  uncon- 
genial to  life. 

Next,  the  out-of-door  life  and  music.  The  first  is,  of 
course,  limited  by  the  severe  heat  of  the  day.  Eight 
A.  M.  is  a  fashionable  hour  for  being  abroad.  You  will 
then  find  the  market  thronged.  You  will  encounter 
seated  groups,  who  take  their  colTce  or  smoke  their  cigar. 
Many  carriages  drive  past,  conveying  people  in  easy  cir- 
cumstances to  Faleran,  a  small  harbor  three  miles  dis- 
tant from  Athens,  where  the  luxury  of  sea-balhing  is 
enjoyed.  At  nine  A.  INI.  the  best  of  the  military  bands 
begins  to  play  before  the  palace.  I  have  their  repertoire 
pretty  well  in  mind,  having  listened  to  its  repetition  for 
three  weeks  past.  They  play  most  of  the  airs  from 
the  Barbiere  di  Seviglia,  the  overture   to   Othello,  and 


DAYS    IN   ATHENS.  20I 

sundry  marches  and  polkas.  With  the  early  morning 
period  begins  the  crying  of  fruit  in  the  streets.  These 
cries  proceed  from  men  who  drive  before  them  donkeys 
laden  with  rude  baskets,  in  which  you  see  potatoes, 
tomatoes,  small  squashes,  apricots,  and  other  fruits. 
They  stop  at  various  doors  in  our  neighborhood,  and 
serve  their  customers.  The  maid-servants  come  out. 
From  one  of  those  doors  issues  with  his  nurse  a  little 
child,  who  is  set  upon  the  donkey's  back,  and  allowed  to 
stay  there  while  the  dealer  supplies  the  houses  in  the 
vicinity.  This  little  one  wears  a  white  cambric  weed 
on  his  hat  to  prevent  sun-stroke,  after  the  manner  of 
greater  people. 

From  ten  A.  M.  to  five  P.  M.,  the  streets  are  quiet. 
After  the  latter  hour  the  carriages  begin  again  to  roll, 
though  the  fashionable  drive  scarcely  begins  earlier  than 
six  o'clock.  One  drives  to  Faleran,  to  the  Pirgeus,  or, 
if  it  be  Sunday,  to  the  Polygonon,  where  the  band 
plays,  and  whither  the  regent,  ^nounted  on  a  well-bred 
steed,  is  sure  to  betake  himself.  This  Polygonon  is 
simply  a  several-sided  pavilion,  at  a  distance  of  a  mile 
and  a  half  from  the  palace.  A  crowd  of  people  flock 
to  it  on  Sunday  afternoons,  either  in  carriages  or  on  foot, 
and  all  in  their  best  clothes.  At  a  little  distance  stands 
a  small  cafe,  where  lemonade  and  lokimiia  may  be  en- 
joyed, but  no  ince.  The  view  of  the  Acropolis  from  this 
spot  is  a  very  pleasant  one.  But  to  return  to  our  Athe- 
nian streets.  Carriages  are  very  dear  in  the  afternoon, 
being  in  request  for  drives  to  the  bath,  which  is  taken 
either  at  Faleran  or  at  Pireo.     A  visit  to  either  place 


203  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

refreshes  after  the  long,  hot  day.  When  you  return  in 
the  evening,  you  see  the  streets  and  squares  about  the 
cafes  thronged  with  people  sitting  at  little  tables  and 
enjoying  ices  or  cofiee.  The  narghile,  or  water-pipe,  is 
much  in  use  here.  At  these  tables  one  often  sees  it. 
The  sacred  herb  basil,  also,  whose  legend  we  have 
elsewhere  recounted,  appears  upon  these  tables,  grow- 
ing in  earthen  pots.  You  will  somewhere  encounter 
the  military  band,  which  nightly  performs  in  some 
stated  place.  But  the  cafe  opposite  our  hotel  has  a 
band  every  evening,  and  our  discussions  of  Greek  pol- 
itics and  of  Cretan  prospects  are  frequently  interrupted  by 
strains  from  Norma,  Trovatore,  Traviata,  and  other  late 
abortions  of  the  muse.  From  this  phrase  let  me,  how- 
ever, even  in  passing,  deliver  Norma,  This  statement 
carefully  enumerates  the  external  resources  of  Athens 
during  waking  hours. 

Within  doors,  besides  our  grave  studies,  we  have  visits. 
Many  Greeks  and  Cretans  wait  upon  the  veteran, 
together  with  American  consuls,  and  Cretan  women 
bringing  silks,  laces,  and  stockings  of  their  own  manu- 
facture, or  petitioning  for  little  special  helps  over  and 
above  the  forty  Icpta  per  diem  allowed  to  each  of  them 
by  the  committee.  Some  mysterious  consultations  are 
there,  bent  on  merciful  conspiracies  and  Heaven-approved 
stratagems.  Omer  Pacha  and  his  army  have  surround- 
ed the  imhappy  Island  of  Candia,  and  are  tightening 
their  folds  like  a  huge  serpent.  The  severity  of  the 
blockade  is  starving  to  death  the  women  and  children 
who  are  shut  up  in  the  towns,  or  hidden  in  caves  and 


DAYS    IN   ATHENS.  203 

recesses  of  the  mountains.  England  meanwhile  feasts 
the  sultan,  and  pledges  the  bloody  toast  of  non-inter- 
ference. How  comfortable  is  the  water-proof  by  which 
my  Lords  Derby  and  Stanley  ward  off  the  approach  of 
any  fact  that  might  induce  compassion  or  compel  indig- 
nation !  Sympathy  at  every  entrance  quite  shut  out, 
and  at  every  appeal  for  mercy  a  fat  English  laugh, 
echoed  by  the  House,  which  may  make  the  angels 
weep.  Smart  Argyle  keeps  heart  of  grace  against  this 
squad  of  the  heartless.  He  even  takes  the  trouble  to 
get  facts  from  Greece  from  sources  less  poisoned  with 
prejudice  than  the  Times'  correspondent.  *  And  I  am 
fain  to  believe  that  a  Scotch  Presbyterian  may  easily 
have  more  heart,  brains,  and  religion  than  one  who 
combines  church  and  state  with  the  betting-book,  and, 
among  all  races,  honors  least  the  human  race. 

Our  war  upon  the  Turks  is  a  war  of  biscuit  and  of 
cotton  cloth.  We  run  every  permissible  risk  to  feed  the 
hungry  and  clothe  the  naked,  both  of  these  terms  being 
of  literal  application.  Our  agent  lands  his  insuffi- 
cient cargo,  and  before  his  errand  is  known,  the  moan 
and  wail  of  the  suffering  ones  break  out  from  hill-side 
and  cavern.  Psoinil  psojnil  for  God's  sake,  bread! 
And  here  comes  the  sad  procession.  The  merciful 
man  is  ashamed  to  look  at  the  women ;  their  rags 
do  not  cover  them.  Hunted  are  they  and  starved 
like  beasts.  But  the  sultan  feasts  in  England  well.  O, 
brave  and  merciful  hearts  of  men  and  women,  be  lifted 

*  It  is  only  fair  to  state  here  that  the  Times'  correspondent, 
minus  his  Mishellenism,  is  a  most  genial,  accomplished,  and 
hospitable  person. 


204  FROM    TlIE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

up  to  help  them.  Aiul  O,  noble  people,  poor  and  hard- 
working, unsophisticated  by  theories  which  make  the 
Turk's  dominion  a  necessary  nuisance,  and  his  religion 
a  form  of  Christianity,  do  you  come  forward,  aiul  make 
common  cause  with  Christ's  poor  and  oppressed,  whose 
faces  are  ground,  whose  chains  are  riveted,  in  his  name. 

Last  evening  the  veteran  received  his  Cretan  mail. 
The  biscuits  arrived  safely.  The  letters  which  ac- 
knowledge them  begin  with,  "  Glory  to  the  triune 
God  !  "  They  then  invoke  blessings  on  the  American 
people,  and  fervently  thank  the  veteran,  who  has  been 
at  once  the  provoker  of  their  zeal  and  the  distributor 
of  their  bounty.  Such  thanks  are  painful ;  they  make 
us  feel  the  agonized  suffering  to  which  our  small  lar- 
gess gives  a  momentary  relief.  The  Arkadi,  our  block- 
ade-runner, after  landing  her  cargo,  took  on  board  more 
than  tlncc  luiiRhcd  women  and  children,  fleeing  from 
the  last  extremities  of  want  and  misery.  This  morning 
appears  at  the  door  of  our  hotel  a  little  group  of  these 
unfortunates — a  mother  with  four  small  children,  the 
youngest  a  little  nursing  babe.  Bread  wcgive  them,  and 
a  line  to  the  committee.  We  ask  the  woman  if  she 
would  not  go  back  to  Crete.  "  O  God  !  no,"  she  re- 
plies:  "  the  Turks  would  murder  us." 

Before  the  letters  came,  last  evening,  wc  heard  con- 
tinual cries  of  "  Pcnde  lepta,"  betokening  the  issue 
of  an  extra.  The  servant  buys  one  and  bi  ings  it.  The 
news  from  Crete  is,  that  Mechmet  Pacha  has  been  in  a 
measure  surrounded  by  the  Cretans.  Our  veteran 
shakes  his  head,  and  fears  that  it  is  otherwise.  A  little 
later  come  in  some  of  our  Cretan  friends,  together  w  ith 


EXCURSION'S.  205 

one  or  two  new  faces.  They  are  hopeful  and  in  some 
excitement.  In  the  midst  of  this  arrives  the  Cretan 
budget,  as  before  mentioned.  Eagerly  indeed  are  the 
etters  devoured.  But  the  veteran  remains  thoughtful, 
and  not  sanguine.  And  when  we  are  alone,  I  find  that 
he  will  go  at  once  to  France  and  England,  jog  the  easy 
conscience  of  diplomacy,  and  appeal  to  the  sense  and 
sympathy  of  the  people.  I  utter  a  hearty  "  God 
speed  !  "  We  had  intended  visiting  Constantinople  ;  but 
that  is  now  given  up,  and  scarcely  regretted,  so  urgent  is 
the  need  of  doing  all  that  can  be  done  for  Crete. 

Excursions. 

To  return  to  matters  purely  personal.  I  must  not 
set  down  the  heat  and  monotony  of  long  days  in 
Athens  without  stating  also  the  per  contras  of  freshness 
and  enjoyment  which  have  been  paid  in  by  various 
small  undertakings  and  excursions.  First  among  these 
I  will  mention  a  morning  meeting  under  the  columns 
of  Jupiter  Olympius.  A  small  party  of  us,  by  ap- 
pointment, started  at  five  A.  M.,  and  reached  the  col- 
umns, some  ten  minutes  later.  They  stand  quite  flatly 
on  a  large  plain,  lifting  their  Corinthian  capitals  high  in 
the  blue  empyrean.  But  this  we  have  already  described 
elsewhere.  On  this  occasion  we  take  seats  in  the  com- 
forting shadow,  around  a  little  table,  and  call  for  coffee, 
lemonade,  and  lokumias.  The  earl}-  morning  is  very 
beautiful.  A  company  o-f  soldiers  goes  through  its 
drill  quite  near  us.  Presently  its  officers  also  retreat 
under  the  shadows,  take  chairs  and  a  table,  and  call  for 
what  pleases  them  best.     The  regimental  band  plays  an 


2o6  FROM   THE    OAK    TO   THE    OLIVE. 

air  or  two,  perhaps  in  compliment  to  the  neophytes, 
who  are  of  our  company.  We  enjoy  the  unique  scene 
and  combination  —  the  picturesque  costumes,  the  beau- 
ties and  associations  of  the  spot.  So  rampant  does  this 
eflbrt  make  us,  that  we  determine  to  have  a  meeting 
in  the  Acropolis  in  the  afternoon  of  this  very  day,  of 
cloudless  promise,  like  its  fellows. 

We  disperse  and  return  home  before  the  severe  heat 
of  the  morning  sets  in  ;  and  this  is  well,  for  between  the 
shade  of  the  pepper-tree  walk  and  the  shade  of  the  col- 
umns there  is  a  long  tract  of  sunny  expanse.  At  this 
hour  it  is  quite  endurable  ;  an  hour  later  it  becomes 
overpowering.  We  pass  the  day  after  the  usual  fash- 
ion. At  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  do  meet  in  the 
Acropolis,  and  hold  poetic  session  in  a  sheltered  corner 
of  the  Parthenon.  She  who  was  there  invited  to  read 
her  own  and  other  verses  felt  an  especial  joy  and 
honor  in  so  doing.  And  we  had  recitations  besides, 
and  singing,  and  Bengal  lights,  which  the  fairest  of 
moons  put  to  shame.  And  we  went  home  afterwards 
with  great  reluctance. 

We  had  three  windy  days  in  Athens,  really  of  a  cool 
and  boisterous  quality.  We  took  advantage  of  one  of 
tliem  to  visit  Elcusis,  where  stood  the  great  Temple  of 
Ceres,  famous  as  the  scene  of  initiation  into  the  Eleusin- 
ian  mysteries,  which  formed  an  epoch  in  the  youth  of 
every  Greek.  The  road  to  it  leads  through  Daphne,  the 
spot  on  which  Apollo  is  supposed  to  have  chased  the  clas- 
sic nymph.  The  rose  laurels  (oleanders)  still  bloom  on 
its  somewhat  barren  soil.    The  way  leads  also  by  the  sea, 


EXCURSIONS.  207 

commanding  a  refreshing  outlook  on  the  same.  A 
modern  Albanian  village  covers  the  greater  part  of  the 
space  formerly  occupied  by  the  temple.  As  the  day  is 
Sunday,  we  find  the  inhabitants  walking  about  in  pic- 
turesque costumes,  the  men  in  embroidered  jackets  or 
goatskin  capotes,  the  shoulder  of  the  garment  expand- 
ing into  a  wide,  short  sleeve ;  the  women  in  narrow 
skirts,  wearing  long",  narrow  redingotes  without  sleeves, 
in  a  coarse  white  woollen  material,  with  two  rows  of 
black  embroidery  down  the  back,  between  which 
falls  their  long,  braided  hair,  tied  at  the  end  with  a  black 
ribbon.  Some  of  them  wore  at  the  waist  large  girdle- 
clasps,  composed  of  two  disks  of  silvered  copper,  not 
unlike  a  belt  ornament  worn  by  ladies  in  our  own 
country.  We  asked  leave  to  enter  one  of  the  small 
thatched  cottages.  It  consisted  of  a  single  room.  The 
walls  were  neatly  whitewashed.  An  earthen  pot  was 
boiling  upon  a  fire  of  sticks.  I  saw  no  furniture  except  a 
low  wooden  chest,  on  which  was  seated  an  old  woman, 
the  grandmother  of  the  family.  Several  young  women 
occupied  the  hut  with  her  ;  all  had  small  children  with 
them.  They  stood  about,  all  but  one,  who  sat  on  the 
floor  in  a  corner,  soothing  a  sick  and  crying  child.  Of 
the  ruins  of  the  temple  a  small  angle  only  is  exposed. 
It  includes  some  square  yards  of  marble  pavement,  frag- 
ments of  pillars,  and  one  very  large  and  fine  Corinthian 
capital.  It  shows,  besides  this,  some  remnants  of  mason- 
ry indicating  a  number  of  small  chambers.  Near  it  is  a 
wall,  piled  up  of  large  pieces  of  the  finest  Greek  mar- 
ble, roughly  broken  with  a  hammer — the  wreck,  obvi- 


2o8  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

ously,  of  former  walls  or  columns.  The  magnitude  of 
the  temple  is  n"!arkccl  by  some  stones  lying  quite  at 
the  other  end  of  the  village  street :  the  space  between 
these  and  those  first  mentioned  would  indicate  a  build- 
ing of  enormous  extent.  Much  of  its  ruined  material 
probably  underlies  tlic  little  village,  and  will  scarcely  be 
brought  to  light  in  these  times.  A  small  cabin  adjacent 
is  dignified  witJi  the  title  of  museum.  To  this  we  were 
admitted  by  a  custodc,  an  old  soldier,  who  has  it  in 
charge.  The  collection  consists  of  a  mass  of  small 
fragments,  some  of  which  formerly  belonged  to  statues, 
some  to  architectural  sculptures.  We  saw  little  to 
move  the  cupidity  of  the  visitor,  but  tried  to  bargain  for 
one  relic  less  ugly  tlian  the  rest;  in  vain,  however. 
A  Frenchman,  not  long  ago,  took  from  these  ruins 
many  valuable  objects,  marbles,  and  even  jewelry ; 
since  whicli  time  the  govcrmnent  has  strictly  forbidden 
these  Elgin  thefts.  The  custode's  domestic  arrange- 
ments amused  me  more  than  did  his  museum.  There 
was  one  very  poor  little  tin,  in  which  he  boiled  his  cof- 
fee ;  another,  smaller  and  more  miserable,  held  oil  and 
a  wick.  lie  had  gunpowder  in  a  gourd.  Ilis  bed  was 
small  and  much  dilapidated.  A  fragment  of  mat  thrown 
upon  a  heap  of  stones  was  his  only  scat.  Few  beggars 
in  America  are,  })r<)bal)l}-,  so  ill  j)rovitlctl  with  the  ap- 
pliances of  life. 

One  of  the  women  of  the  cabin  1  had  visited  followed 
me  to  the  museum,  and  naturally  held  out  her  hand  for 
"  pende  lepta."  Yet  beggary  is  very  rare  in  Greece, 
and  this  pdilioner  asked  in  rather  a  shamefaced  manner, 


EXCURSIONS.  209 

pointing  to  the  little  baby  on  her  arm.     And  this  is  all 
that  there  is  to  narrate  of  the  expedition  to  Eleusis. 

Of  a  more  stately  character  was  the  expedition  to 
Kephissia.  We  started  at  seven  in  the  morning.  There 
were  two  carriage-loads  of  our  party  ;  for,  in  addition  to 
the  veteran's  six-syllabled  secretary,  we  were  accompa- 
nied by  an  amiable  Greek  family,  whose  guests  we  be- 
came for  the  day.  In  the  villages  that  surround  Athens 
there  are  no  hotels  or  lodging-houses  of  any  description. 
The  traveller  perfoi"ce  implores  hospitality,  and  usually 
receives  it.  On  this  occasion  our  friends  had  asked  and 
obtained  the  key  of  a  large  and  sumptuous  house  at 
Kephissia,  whose  owners  are  absent.  They  had  also 
secured  the  company  of  three  gens  cfarmes^  who  gal- 
loped along  the  dusty  road  beside  us.  The  drive  at  this 
early  hour  was  cool  and  most  refreshing.  The  only 
drawback  to  its  comfort  was  the  dust,  which  the  fore- 
most carriage  could  not  avoid  sending  back  to  that 
which  followed.  We  reached  first  the  village  of  Ma- 
roussi,  a  pretty,  shady  little  place,  in  whose  cafe  we  saw 
a  group  of  peasants  playing  at  cards.  The  usual  ap- 
pliances, coffee  and  tobacco,  were  also  visible.  Here 
we  stopped  to  water  the  horses.  A  handsome  marble 
fountain,  beneath  a  shady  clump  of  trees,  bears  the 
names  of  the  family  who  caused  it  to  be  erected  for  the 
public  good.  Shade  and  water  are,  indeed,  the  two 
luxuries  of  regions  such  as  these.  A  little  farther  on, 
we  came  to  Kephissia,  and  stopped  at  the  door  of  the 
palatial  residence  that  was  to  give  us  shelter  for  the  day. 
We  entered  a  hall  paved  with  white  marble,  and  as- 


2IO  rUO.M    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

ccndcd  a  marble  staircase.  We  now  found  ourselves  in 
a  spacious  set  of  apartments,  well  kept,  and  furnished 
according  to  the  Greek  theory  of  summer  furniture. 
Roomy  divans  extended  with  the  walls  of  each  salon^ 
of  which  there  were  three,  opening  one  into  tlie  other. 
Tables  and  chairs  there  were  ;  and,  had  the  proprie- 
tors resided  there,  handsome  Turkish  mats  would,  no 
doubt,  have  variegated  the  bare  floors.  The  chief  salon 
opened  upon  a  balcony  commanding  an  extensive  view. 
The  fresh  wind  blew  to  quite  a  gale,  greatlv  raising  our 
languid  energies.  On  the  walls  of  this  apartment  hung 
two  portraits  —  those  of  the  former  master  and  mistress 
of  the  house.  She  was  sumjDtuous  in  dark  blue  velvet, 
with  a  collar  of  Valenciennes  lace  and  a  fastening  bow 
of  blue  plaid  ribbon.  Her  fingers  were  adorned  with 
rings.  Her  husband  appeared  in  his  best  broadcloth, 
wearing  on  his  liead  a  red  fez  with  a  white  under  edge. 
lie  had  begun  life  in  a  humble  station,  and  had  raised 
himself  to  great  opulence  by  his  own  exertions.  Some- 
thing of  the  consciousness  of  this  was  expressed  in  his 
countenance,  which  was  a  good-natured  one.  lie  and 
his  wife  did  not  long  enjoy  the  fortune  so  justly  earned. 
They  died  almost  before  the  house  at  Kephissia  was 
finished,  bequeathing  its  magnificence  to  two  young 
nephews,  also  rich,  but  resident  in  Italy. 

The  freedom  of  our  day  here  made  amends  for  the 
many  days  of  hot  imprisonment  passed  in  the  hotel  at 
Athens.  Breakfast  was  necessary  on  first  arriving. 
Wc  then  surveyed  the  bedrooms  and  made  arrange- 
ments for  our  midday  nap.     We  found  comtbrtable  bed- 


EXCURSIONS.  211 

steads  of  bright  metal.  The  servants  brought  clean 
mattresses,  and  unrolled  them  for  us.  Water  and  towels 
^ve  enjoyed  in  abundance.  We  then  walked  out  to 
view  the  environs.  And  first  our  steps  brought  us  to  an 
enormous  plane  tree,  under  whose  far-reaching  shade 
the  gossips  of  the  village  hold  their  daily  meetings. 
The  boughs  of  this  tree,  with  the  cleared  space  under 
them,  formed  a  sort  of  rustic  saIo7z,  cool  and  delightful 
even  in  the  heat  of  the  day.  The  unfailing  cafe  was 
near  at  hand ;  its  chairs  and  tables  were  scattered 
about  these  rustic  purlieus,  and  its  servants  waited  for 
orders.  Here  our  companions  encountered  various  ac- 
quaintances from  the  city,  who  have  come  hither  to  pass 
the  season  of  the  great  heats.  They  wore  white  veils  on 
their  straw  hats,  as  is  much  the  custom  here,  and  had 
altogether  the  enfranchised  air  which  city  men  are  wont 
to  assume  in  country  retirement.  Mail  and  public  con- 
veyance they  had  none.  One  of  our  party  brought 
them  letters,  and  took  the  answers  back  to  Athens. 
We  now  went  in  search  of  the  source  of  the  Kephisus, 
called  Kefalari.  We  found  a  deep  spring  of  the  purest 
water,  very  cool  for  these  parts,  and  constantly  welling 
up.  So  clear  was  this  pool  that  one  saw  without  im- 
pediment the  smallest  objects  at  the  bottom  of  tlie  water. 
There  were  waving  trees  beside  it.  We  sat  down,  and 
drank,  and  rested.  Our  walk  next  brought  us  to  a 
wine  factory,  and,  as  we  entered  to  look  at  it,  the  sound 
of  a  grand  piano,  skilfully  touched,  arrested  us.  Our 
friends  guessed  the  unseen  artist,  and  knocked  at  her 
door  for  admittance.     Entering,  we  found  two  ladies, 


213  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

mother  and  daiiglitcr,  of  whom  the  elder  was  the  mis- 
tress of  tlic  musical  instrument.  The  daughter,  very 
young,  but  already  married,  hears  the  historical  name  of 
Colocotroni,  her  husband  being  the  grandson  of  the  old 
revolutionary  chieftain  of  that  name.  These  ladies  own 
extensive  possessions  in  this  vicinity,  and  the  establish- 
ment in  which  we  were  belonged  to  them.  Tliey  have  a 
large  villa  at  some  distance  ;  but  fear  of  the  brigands 
induces  them  to  be  satisfied  with  the  shelter  of  two  or 
three  rooms,  divided  oi]"  from  the  rest  of  the  factory,  in 
which  they  live  in  comfortable  simplicity.  The  table  \vas 
laid  for  their  dcjcuncr  in  a  little  arbor  made  of  pine  tree 
branches.  Dinner  they  took  at  twilight,  without  shelter. 
They  entertained  us  with  the  invariable  ^//'>('o  and  water, 
and,  at  our  request,  the  elder  lady  gave  us  a  specimen 
of  her  skill  in  dealing  with  the  piano-forte.  Madame 
Colocotroni  speaks  both  French  and  English,  and  the 
books  and  pamphlets  in  her  drawing-room  had  quite  a 
cosmopolitan  air  of  culture. 

After  these  doings,  we  returned  to  the  great  house, 
and  sheltered  ourselves  in  its  shady  rooms.  Here  read- 
ing, worsted  work,  and  conversation  beguiled  the  time 
until  dinner  was  announced.  The  gentlemen,  mean- 
while, had  retired  to  smoke  and  discuss  political  ques- 
tions. The  dinner  was  much  too  well-appointed  for  a 
country  picnic.  Our  munificent  entertainers  had  sent 
out  their  own  valets  and  chcfdc  cuisine.  And  so  we  had 
potage,  and  entrees,  and  dessert,  w  ith  Kephissia  wine, 
both  white  and  red,  of  which  I  founil  the  former  much 
like  a  Sauterne  wine,  and  very  mild  and  pure  in  quality. 


EXCURSIONS.  213 

One  of  the  guests  was  an  Asiatic  Greek  from  Broussa. 
His  politics  were  of  the  backward  sort  —  those  of  the 
Greek  Greeks  were  radical  and  progressive.  The  din- 
ner arena  developed  therefore  some  amicable  differences 
of  opinion.  He  from  Broussa  gave  me  a  few  charac- 
teristic particulars  of  his  life.  When  he  was  but  a  year 
old,  his  father  chartered  a  ship,  put  much  of  his  propei'ty 
on  board  of  her,  and  sent  therewith  his  children  to  be 
educated  in  Europe.  After  many  3-ears  of  absence, 
M.  L.  returned  to  Broussa,  to  seek  som.e  traces  of  his 
family.  Such  as  remained  of  them  had  been  compelled 
by  the  pressure  of  circumstances  to  adopt  the  Turkish 
language,  and  to  profess  Mohammedanism.  Their 
Christian  prayers  they  always  continued  to  recite  in 
private,  but  were  fain  by  every  outward  expedient  to 
escape  the  ill  treatment  which  Christians  receive  in  a 
country  in  which  Turkish  authority  is  dominant.  He 
told  me  —  what  I  hear  strongly  corroborated  by  other  tes- 
timony—  that  the  Turks  had  often  cut  out  the  tongues 
of  Greek  women,  in  order  that  they  should  not  be  abje 
to  teach  their  children  either  their  own  language  or 
their  own  religion.  Under  these  circumstances  the  grad- 
ual absorption  of  the  race  in  those  regions  seems  almost 
inevitable. 

An  after-dinner  nap  and  a  ramble  completed  our 
experience  of  Kephissia.  At  sunset  we  started  home- 
ward, the  carriages  all  open,  the £-eus  d'armes  gallop- 
ing, the  dust  playing  a  thousand  solid  antics,  and  writing 
hieroglyj^hics  of  movement  all  over  our  garments  and 
faces.      We  found   the   little   village   of   Maroussi   cool 


214  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    TIIK    OLIVE. 

with  the  evening  shadows,  and  tlic  women  and  children 
with  their  pitchers  gathered  around  the  marble  fountain. 
We  ourselves  came  hack  to  Atlicns  in  a  cooled  and  con- 
soled condition,  and  said  at  parting,  commanding  the 
little  Greek  we  knew,  Poly  kala-evkaristo. 

IIymettus. 

It  happened  that  the  next  day  was  fixed  upon  for  a  visit 
to  Ilymettus,  wiiose  water  is  celebrated,  as  well  as  its 
honey.  A  certain  monkless  monastery  on  the  side  of  the 
mountain  receives  travellers  within  its  shady  courts,  and 
allows  them  to  feed,  rest,  and  amuse  themselves  according 
to  their  own  pleasure.  We  started  on  this  classic  jour- 
ney soon  after  five  A.  M.,  carrying  with  us  a  basket  con- 
taining cold  chicken,  bread,  and  fruit.  We  filled  one 
carriage  ;  a  party  of  friends  accompanied  us  in  another. 
The  road  to  II}  niettus  is  hilly  and  dilhcult ;  and  our 
own  troubles  in  travelling  it  were  augmented  by  those 
of  our  friends  in  the  foremost  carriages,  whose  horses, 
a,t  an  early  period  in  the  ascent,  began  to  back  and 
balk.  As  these  horses,  who  go  so  ill,  insist  upon  going 
first,  and  refuse  to  stir  the  moment  we  take  the  lead,  it 
comes  to  pass  that  in  some  steep  ascents  they  press  back 
upon  us,  to  our  discomfort  antl  danger. 

An  anxious  hour  brings  us  to  the  convent,  which 
stands  at  no  great  elevation  on  the  side  of  the  mountain. 
The  sun  is  already  burning,  and  wo  are  glad  to  take 
refuge  in  the  shady  inner  court  of  the  convent,  where 
we  are  to  pass  the  day.  Our  friends  of  the  other  car- 
riage have  brought  with  them  Hatty,  a  child  two  years 


HYMETTUS.  215 

of  age,  and  Marigo,  a  little  servant  of  thirteen.  The 
latter  has  somewhat  the  complexion  of  a  potato-skin, 
with  vivacious  eyes,  and  dark  hair,  bound,  after  the 
Greek  fashion,  with  a  handkerchief.  A  young  brother 
follows  on  a  slov»^  donkey,  which  he  belabors  to  his 
heart's  content. 

The  court  just  spoken  of  is  a  small  enclosure,  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  whitewashed  walls,  of  which 
one  includes  a  small  chapel,  with  its  tapers  and  painted 
images.  In  one  corner  a  doorway  leads  into  a  den 
which  must  once  have  sei'ved  as  a  kitchen.  It  is  roughly 
built  of  stone,  with  no  chimney,  its  roof  presenting  va- 
rious apertures  for  the  issue  of  smoke.  Here  a  fire  of 
sticks  is  hastily  kindled  on  a  layer  of  stones,  and  the 
coftee,  boiled  at  home,  is  made  hot  for  us.  A  wooden 
table  is  allowed  us  from  the  convent,  which  we  decorate 
with  a  white  cloth  and  green  leaves.  Rolls,  butter,  hard- 
boiled  eggs,  and  fruits,  together  with  the  coflee,  consti- 
tute a  very  presentable  breakfast.  We  have  around  us 
the  shade  of  vines  and  of  lemon  trees.  Our  repast  is 
gay.  When  it  is  ended,  we  amuse  ourselves  with  books, 
work,  and  conversation  of  a  scope  suited  to  the  weather. 
An  Athenian  Plato  could  discourse  philosophy  in  the 
present  state  of  the  thermometer.  V/e  need  it  more 
than  ever  he  did,  but  we  cannot  attain  it. 

While  we  sit  cheerful  and  quiescent,  dodging  the 
sharp  sunlight,  which  slyly  carries  one  position  after  an- 
other, sounds  of  laughter  fi'om  the  outer  court  I'each  our 
ears.    This  is  a  feast  day,  and  in  this  outer  court  a  com- 


2l6  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

pany  of  Athenian  artisans,  of  tlic  Snng  and  Bottom 
order,  arc  keeping  it  after  their  fashion.  Following 
their  voices,  we  come  to  a  shady  terrace,  where  some 
eight  or  ten  men  are  seated  on  the  ground  around  a 
wooden  table,  one  foot  in  height,  while  two  or  three  of 
their  comrades  are  employed  in  cutting  up  a  lamb  new- 
ly roasted,  spitted  on  a  long,  slender  pole. 

The  cooking  apparatus  consisted  of  two  or  three 
stones,  on  which  the  fire  of  sticks  w\'\s  kindled,  and  of 
two  forked  stakes,  planted  upright,  across  wliich  the 
spit  and  roast  were  laid.  While  the  two  before  men- 
tioned were  hacking  the  paschal  lamb  with  rude  anato- 
my, a  third  was  occupied  with  the  salad,  consisting  of 
cucumbers  sliced,  with  green  herbs,  oil,  and  vinegar. 
Olives,  bread,  and  wine  completed  the  repast.  As  we 
stood  surveying  them,  one  of  their  number  approached 
us,  bearing  in  one  hand  a  plate  containing  choice  mor- 
sels of  the  roasted  meat.  This  he  oflered  to  each  of  us 
in  turn,  WMth  great  comtesy.  In  the  otlicr  hand  he  car- 
ried a  ratlicr  dirty  fragment  of  cotton  cloth,  which  he 
also  presented  to  each  in  turn,  as  a  towel.  We  took  the 
meat  with  our  fingers,  and  ate  it  standing,  in  true  Pass- 
over fashion.  The  doubtful  accommodation  of  the  table 
napkin  also  we  were  glad  to  accejDt.  Having  fed  each 
of  us,  he  presently  returned  with  a  glass  and  bottle  of 
wine,  which  he  poured  out  and  ofiered,  saying,  '•'■  JZlcu- 
thera^  clctii/icra"  which  signifies  "free,  free."  The 
wine,  however,  was  a  little  out  of  rule  for  us,  and  was 
therefore  declined. 


HYMETTUS.  21 7 

This  man  wore  neither  coat  nor  shoes,  but  hi§  man- 
ners were  full  dress.  His  comrades,  meanwhile,  had 
fallen  to  attacking  their  provisions  with  a  hearty  good 
will.  When  the  wine  was  poured  out,  a  toast  was  pro- 
posed, and  '■'•  EleutJieria  tis  Cretis"  ("the  liberty  of 
Crete")  rang  from  every  lip.  "  Amen,  amen,"  answered 
we,  and  the  entente  cordiale  was  at  once  established. 
Having  eaten  and  drunk,  they  began  to  sing  in  a  mo- 
notonous strain,  keeping  time  by  clapping  their  hands. 
Retiring  to  our  court,  we  still  heard  this  cadence  from 
theirs.  Their  song,  though  little  musical,  had  no  brutal 
intonations.  It  breathed  a  rather  refined  good  nature 
and  hilarity.  When  we  again  visited  our  neighbors, 
they  were  dancing.  All,  save  two  of  them,  formed  a 
line,  joining  hands,  the  leader  and  the  one  next  him 
holding  together  by  a  pocket  handkerchief.  They  sang 
all  the  while,  stepping  rather  slowly.  The  leader,  at 
intervals,  made  as  though  he  would  sit  upon  the  ground, 
and  then  suddenly  sprang  high,  with  an  oicJi  I  something 
like  the  shout  in  a  Highland  fling.  In  another  figure, 
they  all  lay  upon  their  backs,  springing  up  again  quite 
abruptly,  and  continuing  their  round. 

These  doings,  together  with  talking,  writing,  and 
needle-work,  brought  on  the  hour  at  which,  in  these 
climates,  sleep  becomes  necessary.  In  Greece,  if  you 
have  risen  eaidy  in  the  morning,  by  noon,  or  soon  after, 
you  are  sensible  of  a  sudden  ebb  of  energy.  The  mar- 
row seems  to  forsake  your  bones,  the  volition  your 
muscles.  You  may  not  feel  common  sleepiness,  but 
your  skeleton  demands  instant  release  from  its  upright 


3l8  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE, 

eHbrt. .  You  ask  to  become  a  heap,  instead  of  a  pile, 
and  on  the  otler  of  the  fast  accommodation,  you  fall  like 
the  disjointed  column  of  Jupiter  Olympius,  more  fortu- 
tunatc  only  in  the  easier  renewal  of  yoiu^  architecture. 
Such  a  fall,  at  this  moment,  the  stillest  of  us  coveted. 

^Icanwhile,  an  ancient  hag,  from  the  inner  recesses 
of  the  building,  had  waited  upon  us,  with  copious  chat- 
tering of  her  pleasure  in  seeing  us,  and  of  the  draw- 
back which  the  brigands  had  otlcred  to  her  little  busi- 
ness of  serving  the  strangers  who  used  to  visit  tiie 
convent  before  Kitzos  and  others  made  them  afraid. 
For,  the  convent  no  longer  containing  monks,  those 
who  occupy  it  are  glad  to  accommodate  visitors  from 
Athens  and  elsewhere.  And  the  hag  brought  some 
heavy  mats  and  quilts,  and  spread  them  on  the  floor  of 
a  little  whitewashed  out-house.  And  on  these  the  little 
two-year-old  child  and  others  of  the  party  lay  down  and 
slept.  But  "  e  Dicgalc  kyric^''  —  meaning  here  the  elder 
lady,  —  said  the  hag,  "  cannot  sleep  on  the  floor.  I 
have  a  good  bed  up  stairs  ;  she  shall  lie  there." 

So  up  stairs  mounted  the  mcgale  kyric^  and  found  a 
quiet  room,  and  a  bed  spread  with  clean  sheets  in  one 
corner.  A  rude  chintz  lounge,  a  wooden  chest,  and  an 
eight-inch  mirror  completed  the  furniture  of  this  apart- 
ment. Here,  in  the  bed-C(jrncr,  the  Olympian  cohunn 
of  c  7ncgalc  fell,  and  barbarian  sleep,  sleep  of  the  viid- 
dlc  ages^  at  once  seized  upon  it  and  kept  it  prostrate. 
After  a  brief  interval  of  Gothic  tlarkncss,  the  column 
rose  again,  and  confronted  the  windows  conniKuuling  a 
view  of  the  court.     On  one  of  its  wooden  settles  lay  the 


HYMETTUS.  219 

young  Greek  secretary  in  wholesome  slumber.  Not  far 
from  him  rested  the  Greek  missionary,  a  graduate  of 
Amherst,  and  a  genial  and  energetic  man.  And  pres- 
ently the  two-year-old,  waking,  desires  to  waken  these 
also,  and  makes  divers  attempts  against  their  peace, 
causing  e  inegale  to  descend  for  their  protection.  On 
her  way,  in  an  outer  passage,  she  encounters  a  poor 
woman,  lying  on  a  heap  of  cedar  boughs,  and  bewail- 
ing a  bitter  headache.  Dinner-time  next  an-ives.  The 
wooden  tables  are  once  more  set  out  with  meat  and 
fruit.  We  exert  ourselves  to  give  the  feast  a  picturesque 
aspect,  and  are  not  altogether  unsuccessful  in  so  doing. 
The  true  feast,  however,  seems  to  con-sist  in  saying  over 
to  one's  self,  "  This  is  Greece  —  this  is  Hymettus.  I  am 
I,  and  I  am  here."  And  now  the  greatest  heat  of  the 
day  being  overpast,  a  ramble  is  proposed. 

The  young  people,  escorted  by  the  missionary,  climb 
half  the  steep  ascent  of  the  mountain.  E  i7iegale  and 
the  secretary  pause  in  the  outer  court,  to  whose  festivi- 
ties a  new  feature  is  now  added.  Our  friends,  the  arti- 
sans, have  feasted  again,  and  little  of  the  lamb  remains 
save  the  bones.  They  are  singing  and  dancing  as 
before,  but  a  strange  figure  from  the  mountain  has 
joined  them.  He  calls  himself  a  shepherd,  but  looks 
much  like  a  brigand.  He  wears  a  jacket,  fustanella, 
and  leggings,  of  the  dirtiest  possible  white  —  a  white 
which  mocks  at  all  washings,  past  and  future.  He  has 
taken  the  leadership  of  the  coryphees,  and  now  executes 
a  dance  which  is  called  the  "  Klepht."  His  sly  move- 
ments   express    cunning,  to  which   the   twinkle   of   his 


230  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OI.IVE. 

sinister  eyes  responds.  Now  he  pretends  to  be  stabbed 
from  behind  ;  now  he  creeps  cautiously  upon  a  pretend- 
ed foe.  His  dancin<^,  which  is  very  (juict,  faticjues  him 
extremely  ;  but  before  making  an  end,  he  performs  the 
feat  of  carrying  a  glass  of  wine  on  his  head  through 
various  movements,  not  spilling  a  drop  of  it.  The  arti- 
sans are  now  intending  to  break  up.  They  cork  the 
bottles  of  wine  and  vinegar,  empty  and  repack  the 
dishes.  We  have  brought  them  some  fruit  from  our 
dessert.  One  of  them  makes  a  little  speech  to  us,  in 
behalf  of  all,  thanking  for  our  interest  In  the  freedom 
of  Crete  and  in  the  prosperity  of  their  country.  And 
'•'  Zcto!  zctoV  (live!  live!)  was  the  pleasant  termina- 
tion of  the  discourse,  to  which  we  were  obliged  to  re- 
spond through  the  medium  of  a  friendly  interpretation. 
Finally  the  day  began  to  wane,  and  we  to  pack  and 
embark.  The  bell  of  tlic  little  church  now  made  itself 
heard,  and,  looking  in,  we  saw  the  priest  engaged 
in  going  through  his  service,  while  a  very  homespun 
assistant  stood  at  the  reading-desk,  wearing  spectacles 
upon  his  nose,  and  making  responses  through  it.  A 
circlet  of  tapers  was  burning  before  the  altar.  One 
old  womaii  or  so,  a  peasant  motiier  with  her  cliiUl, — 
these  were  the  congregation.  The  idea  of  the  Greek 
as  of  the  Catholic  mass  is,  that  it  ellects  a  propitiation 
of  the  Divine  Being;  so  the  priest  performs  his  oilice, 
often  with  little  or  no  following.  As  to  those  who 
should  attend,  1  believe  that  one  pays  one's  money  and 
has  one's  choice  ;  there  is  nothing  absolute  about  it. 
And    now   c   mcgale  bestows    a    trifling    largess    upon 


ITEMS.  221 

the  hag,  who  has  also  dined  off  the  relics  of  our  feast. 
The  books  and  work  are  gathered,  the  carriages  sum- 
moned. Item,  our  driver  wore  a  Palicari  dress,  and 
took  part,  very  lamely,  in  the  dances  we  witnessed. 
Farewell,  Hymcttus  !  farewell,  shady  convent,  clear  and 
sparkling  water !  We  kiss  our  hands  to  you,  and  cher- 
ish you  in  our  remembrance. 

On  our  homeward  way  we  soon  passed  the  Athenian 
party,  riding  ten  or  twelve  in  a  one-horse  cart,  carrying 
with  them  for  an  ensign  the  pole  on  which  their  lamb 
had  been  spitted.  They  saluted  us,  and  we  shouted 
back,  '-'■  EleiitJieria  tis  Kritisl  "  Amen,  simple  souls  ! 
your  instincts  are  wiser  than  the  reasons  of  diplomatists. 

Items. 
My  remaining  chronicles  of  Athens  will  be  brief  and 
simple  —  gleanings  at  large  from  the  field  of  memory, 
whose  harvests  grow  more  uncertain  as  the  memorizer 
grows  older.  In  youth  the  die  is  new  and  sharp,  and 
the  impression  distinct  and  clean  cut.  This  sharpness 
of  outline  wears  with  age  ;  all  things  observed  give  us 
more  the  common  material  of  human  life,  less  its  indi- 
vidual features.  In  this  point  of  view  it  may  well  be 
that  I  shall  often  speak  of  things  trivial,  and  omit  mat- 
ters of  greater  importance.  Yet  even  these  trifles, 
sketched  in  surroundings  so  grandiose,  may  serve  to 
shadow  out  the  features  of  something  greater  than 
themselves,  always  inwardly  felt,  even  when  not  espe- 
cially depicted.  It  is  in  this  hope  that  I  bind  together 
my  few  and  precious  reminiscences  of  Grecian  life,  and 


232  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

present  them,  iiuidcqiiate  as  they  are,  as  ahnost  better 
tlian  anylhiii;^  else  1  have. 

The  Palace. 

Armed  vvitli  a  permit,  and  accompanied  by  a  Greek 
fiiend,  we  walked,  one  bitter  hot  afternoon,  to  see  the 
royal  palace  built  by  King  Otho,  it  is  said,  out  of  his 
own  appanage,  or  private  income.  As  an  investment 
even  for  his  own  ultimate  benefit,  he  would  have  done 
much  better  in  expending  the  money  on  some  of  the 
improvements  so  much  needed  in  his  capital.  The 
salary  of  the  King  of  Greece  amounts  to  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  dollars;  and  this  sum  is  sulh- 
cicntlv  disproportionate  to  the  slender  monetary  re- 
sources of  the  kingdom,  without  the  additional  testi- 
mony of  this  palatial  monument  of  a  monarch  who 
wished  to  live  like  a  rich  man  in  a  poor  country.  The 
palace  is  a  very  large  one.  It  not  only  encloses  a  hol- 
low square,  but  divides  that  square  b}'  an  extension 
running  across  it.  The  internal  arrangements  and 
adornments  are  mostly  in  good  taste,  and  one  can 
imagine  that  when  the  king  and  queen  held  tiieir  state 
there,  the  state  apartments  may  have  made  a  brave 
show.  The  rooms  now  appear  rather  scantily  tur- 
nished ;  the  hangings  are  faded ;  ami  one  can  make 
one's  own  reflections  upon  the  vanity  and  folly  of  am- 
bitious expense,  unperverted  by  the  witchery  of  present 
luxury,  wliich  always  argues,  ''  Yes,  the  peasants  have 
no  beds,  but  see  —  this  arm-chair  is  so  comfortable!" 
Now,  luxury  was  for  the  time  absent  on  leave,  and  we 


THE    PALACE.  223 

thought  much  of  the  peasant,  and  little  of  the  prince. 
For  the  peasant  is  a  fact,  and  the  prince  but  a  symbol, 
and  a  symbol  of  that  which  to-day  can  be  represented 
without  him  ;  viz.,  the  unity  of  will  and  action  essential 
to  the  existence  of  the  state.  This  unity  to-day  is  ac- 
complished by  the  cooperation  of  the  multitude,  not  by 
its  exclusion.  The  symbol  remains  useful,  but  no  longer 
sublime.  No  need,  therefore,  to  exaggerate  the  differ- 
ence between  the  common  symbol  and  the  common 
man.  Fortify  your  unity  in  the  will  and  understand- 
ing of  the  people,  not  in  their  fear  and  imagination. 
And  let  the  king  be  moderate  in  his  following,  and 
illustrious  in  his  character  and  office.  So  shall  he 
be  a  leader  as  well  as  a  banner  —  a  fact  as  well  as 
a  symbol. 

While  I  thought  these  things,  I  admired  Qiieen 
Amalia's  blue,  pink,  and  green  rooms,  the  lustres  of 
fine  Bohemian  glass,  the  suite  of  apartments  for  royal 
visitors,  the  ball-room  and  its  marble  columns,  run- 
ning through  two  stories  in  height,  and  altogether  well- 
appointed.  "  The  court  balls  were  beautiful,"  said  my 
companion,  "  and  the  hall  is  very  brilliant  when  lighted 
and  filled."  "  Is  the  queen  regretted?"  I  asked.  "Not 
much,"  was  the  moderate  reply. 

The  theatre  interested  me  more,  with  its  scenes  still 
standing.  In  the  same  hall,  at  the  other  end,  is  a  frame 
and  enclosure  for  "  tableaux  vivants,"  of  which  the 
court  were  very  fond.  The  prettiest  girls  in  Athens 
came  here,  and  posed  as  !Muses,  Minervas,  and  what 
not.      I  have  the  photograph  of  one,  with  her  white 


224  FRO^r    TIIK    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

robe  and  lyre.  And  this  brings  to  nic  the  only  good 
word  I  can  say  for  Olho  and  Amalia,  in  the  historic 
light  in  which  I  view  them.  They  were  not  gross,  nor 
cruel,  nor  sluttish.  Their  tastes  and  pleasures  were  of 
the  refined,  social  order,  and  in  so  far  their  iniluence 
and  example  were  softening  and  civilizing  in  tendency. 
The  temporary  prevalence  of  the  German  element  has 
introduced  a  tendency  towards  German  culture.  And 
while  the  Greeks  who  seek  commercial  education  very 
generally  migrate  to  London  or  Liverpool,  the  men  most 
accomplished  in  letters  and  philosophy  have  studied 
in  Germany.  All  this  may  not  have  hindered  the 
German  patronage  from  becoming  oppressive,  nor  the 
German  rule  from  becoming  intolerable  to  the  people 
at  large.  But,  with  the  examples  of  this  and  other  ages 
before  one,  one  thanks  a  monarch  for  not  becoming 
cither  a  beast  or  a  butcher.  Otho  was  neither.  But 
neither  was  he,  on  the  other  hand,  a  Greek,  nor  a  lover 
of  Greeks.  Nor  could  he  and  his  queen  present  the 
people  with  a  successor  Greek  in  birth,  if  not  in  parent- 
age. This  absence  of  oHspring,  which  is  said  to  have 
sorely  galled  the  queen,  was  really  a  weak  point  in 
their  case  before  the  people.  To  be  ruled  by  a  Greek 
is  their  natural  and  just  desire. 

Europe,  which  has  so  little  charity  for  their  diver- 
gence from  her  absolute  standard,  must  remember  that 
it  is  not  at  their  request  that  this  expensive  and  uncon- 
genial condition  of  a  foreign  prince  has  been  annexed 
to  their  system  of  government.  The  superstitions  of 
the  old  world  have  here  planted  a  seed  of  mischief  in 


THE    PALACE.  225 

the  gardens  of  the  new.  England  finds  it  most  conven- 
ient to  be  governed  by  a  German  ;  France,  by  an  Ital- 
ian ;  Russia,  by  a  Tartar  line.  What  more  natural  than 
that  they  should  muffle  nevv'-born  Greece  in  their  own 
antiquated  fashions?  The  Greeks  assassinated  Capo 
d'Istrias  for  acts  of  tyranny  from  which  they  knew  no 
other  escape.  For,  indeed,  the  head  of  their  state  was 
very  clumsily  adjusted  to  its  body  by  the  same  powers 
who  left  out  of  their  construction  several  of  its  most 
important  members.  An  arbitrary  president  was  no 
head  for  a  nation  which  had  just  conquered  its  own 
liberty.  A  foreign  absolute  prince  was  only  the  same 
thing,  with  another  name  and  a  larger  salary.  By  their 
last  resolution  the  Greeks  have  attained  a  constitutional 
government.  If  their  present  king  cannot  administer 
such  a  one  properly,  he  will  make  room  for  some  one 
who  can.  To  his  political  duties,  meanwhile,  military 
ones  will  be  added.  Greece  for  the  Greeks,  —  Candia, 
Thessaly,  and  Epirus  delivered  from  the  Moslem  yoke, 
—  this  will  be  the  watchword,  to  which  he  must  reply 
or  vanish. 

It  is  in  the  face  of  America  that  the  new  nations, 
Greece  and  Italy,  must  look  for  encouragement  and 
recognition.  The  old  diplomacy  has  no  solution  for 
their  difficulties,  no  cure  for  their  distresses.  The  ex- 
perience of  the  present  century  has  developed  new 
political  methods,  new  social  combinations.  In  the 
domestic  economy  of  France  and  England  these  new 
features  are  felt  and  acknowledged.  But  in  the  foreign 
policy  of  those  nations  the  element  of  progress  scarcely 
15 


226  FRO^r    TIFK    OAK    TO    THE    OMVE. 

appears.  In  this,  force  still  takes  the  place  of  reason  ; 
the  right  of  conquest  depends  upon  the  i:)o\vcr  of  him 
who  undertakes  it ;  and  in  the  farthest  regions  visited 
by  tlicii  Hags,  organized  barbai-ism  gets  the  better  of 
disorganized  barbarism.  The  English  in  India,  the 
French  in  Algeria,  were  first  brigands,  then  brokers. 
Of  these  two,  wc  need  not  tell  the  civilized  world  that 
the  broker  plunders  best. 

Greece  is  a  poor  democracy  ;  America,  a  rich  one. 
The  second  commands  all  the  luxuries  and  commodities 
of  life  ;  the  first,  little  more  than  its  necessaries.  Yet 
we,  coming  from  our  own  state  of  things,  can  under- 
stand how  the  Greek  values  himself  upon  being  a  man, 
and  upon  having  a  part  in  the  efficient  action  of  the 
commonwealth.  Greece  is  reproached  with  giving  too 
ambitious  an  education  to  her  sons  and  daughters.  Her 
institutions  form  teachers,  not  maids  and  valets,  mis- 
tresses and  masters,  not  servants.  But  for  this  America 
will  not  reproach  her  —  America,  whose  shop-girls  take 
music  lessons,  whose  poorest  menials  attend  lectures, 
concerts,  and  balls.  A  democratic  people  does  not  ac- 
quiesce cither  in  priestly  or  in  diplomatic  precedence. 
Let  i^eople  perform  their  uses,  earn  their  bread,  enjoy 
their  own,  and  respect  their  neighbors ;  these  are  the 
maxims  of  good  life  in  a  democratic  country.  "  Love 
God,  love  thy  neighbor,"  is  better  than  '"  fear  God, 
honor  the  king."  As  to  the  sycophancy  of  snobs,  the 
corruption  of  office,  the  contingent  insufiiciency  alike 
of  electors  and  elected,  — these  are  the  accidents  of  all 
human  governments,  to  be  arrested  only  by  the  constant 


THE    CATHEDRAL.  227 

watchfulness  of  the  wiser  spirits,  the  true  pilots  of  the 
state. 

By  the  time  that  I  had  excogitated  all  this,  my  feet 
had  visited  many  square  yards  of  palace,  comprising 
bed-room,  banqueting-room,  chief  lady's  room,  chapel, 
and  so  on.  I  had  seen  the  queen's  garden,  and  the 
palnias  qui  meruit  ferat^  and  which  she  has  left  for 
her  successor.  I  had  seen,  too,  the  fine  view  from  the 
upper  windows,  sweeping  from  the  Acropolis  to  the 
sea.  I  had  exchanged  various  remarks  with  my  Athe- 
nian companion.  New  furniture  was  expected  with  the 
Russian  princess,  but  scarcely  new  enthusiasm.  The 
little  king  had  stopped  the  movement  in  Thessaly, 
which  would  have  diverted  the  Turkish  force  now 
concentrated  upon  Crete,  giving  that  laboring  island  a 
chance  of  rising  above  the  bloody  waters  that  drown 
her.  Little  love  did  the  little  king  earn  by  this  course. 
One  might  say  that  he  is  on  probation,  and  will,  in 
the  end,  get  his  deserts,  and  no  more.  And  here  my 
friend  has  slipped  some  suitable  coin  into  the  hand  of 
the  smiling  major-domo,  who  showed  us  over  the  royal 
house.  Farewell,  palace  :  the  day  of  kings  is  over. 
Peoples  have  now  their  turn,  and  God  wills  it. 

The  Cathedral. 

In  close  juxtaposition  with  the  state  is  the  church. 
In  America  we  have  religious  liberty.  This  does  not 
mean  that  a  man  has  morally  the  right  to  have  no  re- 
ligion, but  that  the  very  nature  of  religion  requires  that 
he  should   hold  his  own   convictions   above   the   ordi- 


225  riJO.M    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

nances  of  others.  The  Greeks  have  rehgions  liberty, 
whose  idea  is  rather  this,  tliat  people  may  believe  mucli 
as  tlicy  please,  provided  they  adhere  outwardly  to  the 
national  church.  The  reason  assigned  for  this  is,  that 
any  change  in  the  form  or  discipline  of  this  church 
would  weaken  the  bond  that  unites  the  Greeks  out  of 
Greece  proper  with  those  within  her  limits.  This  out- 
ward compression  and  inward  latitude  is  always  a 
dangerous  symptom.  It  points  to  practical  irreligion, 
an  ever  widening  distance  between  a  man's  inward  con- 
victions and  his  outward  practice.  Passing  this  by, 
however,  let  us  have  a  few  words  on  the  familiar  aspect 
and  practical  working  of  the  Greek  church  as  at  pres- 
ent administered.  Like  other  bodies  politic  and  indi- 
vidual already  known  to  us,  it  consists  of  a  reconciled 
opposition,  which,  held  within  bounds,  secures  its  effi- 
ciency. The  same,  passing  those  bounds,  would  cause 
its  annihilation.  Like  other  churches,  it  is  at  once 
aristocratic  and  democratic.  It  binds  and  looses.  It 
is  less  intellectual  than  cither  Catholicism  or  Protestant- 
ism ;  perhaps  less  intolerant  than  either,  so  far  as  dogma 
goes.  I  still  tliink  it  narrower  than  either  in  the  scope 
of  its  sympathies,  lower  than  either  in  its  social  and 
individual  standard.  Taken  with  the  others,  it  makes 
uj)  the  desired  three  of  human  conditions  ;  but  before  it 
can  meet  them  harmoniously,  it  has  a  long  way  to  go. 

Refusing  images,  but  clinging  to  pictures;  allowing 
the  Scriptures  to  the  common  people,  but  discouraging 
their  use  of  the  same  ;  witii  an  unmarried  liierarchy  of 
some  education,  and  a  married  secular  clergy  of  none,  — 


THE    CATHEDRAL.  329 

the  Greek  church  seems  to  me  to  be  too  flatly  in  contra- 
diction with  itself  and  with  the  spirit  of  the  age  to  maintain 
long  a  social  supremacy,  a  moral  efficiency.  The  de- 
partment of  the  clergy  last  mentioned  receive  no  other 
support  than  that  of  the  contingent  contributions  of  the 
people,  paid  in  small  sums,  as  the  wages  of  services 
better  withheld  than  rendered.  Exorcisms,  benedictions, 
prayers  recited  over  graves,  or  secured  as  a  cure  for 
sick  cattle,  —  these  are  some  of  the  sacerdotal  acts  by 
which  the  lesser  clergy  live.  Those  who  wish  to  keep 
these  resources  open  must,  of  course,  discourage  the 
reading  of  the  New  Testament,  whose  great  aim  and 
tendency  are  to  substitute  a  religion  of  life  and  doctrine 
for  a  religion  of  observances.  Congregations  reading 
this  book  for  themselves,  no  matter  how  poor  or  igno- 
rant in  other  matters,  will  ask  something  other  of  the 
priest  than  the  exorcism  of  demons  or  the  cure  of 
cattle. 

Of  the  higher  clergy,  some  have  studied  in  Germany, 
and,  reversing  Mr.  Emerson's  sentence,  must  know,  one 
thinks,  better  than  they  build.  Orthodox  thei,r  will 
may  be,  firm  their  adherence  to  the  establishment,  strict 
their  administration  of  it.  But  they  must  be  aware  of 
the  limits  that  it  sets  to  religious  progress.  And  so  long 
as  they  cannot  preach  to  their  congregations  the  full 
sincerity  and  power  of  their  inward  convictions,  their 
ministration  loses  in  moral  power,  —  the  house  is  divided 
against  itself. 

I  visited  the  Cathedral  of  Athens  but  once.  It  is  a 
spacious  and  handsome  church,  in  what  I  should  call  a 


230  ll;<J.M    TIIK    OAK    TO    THli    OLIVK. 

modern  Eastern  style.  It  was  on  Sunday,  and  mass  was 
going  on.  The  middle  and  right  aisles  were  fdled  with 
men,  the  left  aisle  with  women.  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  have  mentioned  elscwlicrc  that  in  the  Greek  and  Rus- 
sian, as  in  the  (^laker  church,  men  and  women  stand 
separately  —  stand,  for  seats  arc  neither  provided  nor 
allowed.  I  found  a  place  among  the  women,  com- 
manding a  view  of  the  high  altar.  The  archbishop,  a 
venerable-looking  man,  in  gold  brocade  and  golden 
head-dress,  went  through  various  functions,  which, 
though  not  identical  with  those  of  the  Romish  mass, 
seemed  to  amount  to  about  the  same  thing.  There 
were  bowings,  appearings  and  retirings,  the  swinging 
of  censers,  and  the  presentation  of  tapers  fixed  in  siUcr 
candelabras,  and  tied  in  the  middle  with  black  ribbon, 
so  as  to  form  a  sheaf.  These  candelabras  the  archbishop 
from  time  to  time  took,  one  under  each  arm,  and  made 
a  step  or  two  towards  the  congregation.  The  dresses 
of  the  assistant  priests  were  very  rich,  and  their  heads 
altogether  Oriental  in  aspect.  One  of  them,  with  his 
gold-bronzed  face  and  golden  hair,  looked  like  pictures 
of  St.  John.  The  vocal  part  of  the  performance  con- 
sisted of  a  sort  of  chant,  with  responses  intensely  nasal 
and  uiunusical.  This  psalmody,  which  is  liltlc  relished 
by  Greeks  of  culture,  is  yet  maintained,  like  the  disci- 
pline, intact,  lest  the  most  trifling  amelioration  should 
weaken  the  tie  of  Christian  brotherhood  between  the 
free  Greek  church  and  the  church  that  is  in  bondage 
with  her  children.  To  one  familiar  with  the  pretexts 
of  conservatism,  this  plea  of  union  before  improvement 


THE    MISSIONARIES.  231 

is  not  new  nor  availing.  One  laughs,  and  remembers 
the  respectabilities  who  tried  to  paralyze  the  American 
intellect  and  conscience  in  order  to  save  the  Union, 
which,  after  all,  was  saved  only  by  the  measures  they 
abhorred  and  denounced.  I  had  soon  enough  of  what 
I  was  able  to  hear  and  see  of  the  Greek  mass.  As  I 
stole  softly  awa}',  I  passed  a  sort  of  lesser  altar,  before 
which  was  burning"  a  circular  row  of  tapers.  An  old 
woman  had  similar  tapers  on  a  small  table,  for  sale,  I 
suppose.  I  was  invited,  by  gesture,  to  consummate  a 
pious  act  by  the  purchase  of  some  of  these,  but  declined, 
not  without  remembering  that  I  was  some  time  since 
elected  a  lay  delegate  from  a  certain  Unitarian  church 
to  a  certain  Unitarian  conference.  This  fact,  if  com- 
municated, would  not  have  heightened  my  standing 
in  the  approbation  of  the  sisters  who  then  surrounded 
me.  "What,  no  candle?"  said  their  indignant  glances. 
I  was  silent,  and  fled. 

The  Missionaries. 

In  the  presence  of  the  contradictions  alluded  to  above, 
the  position  of  the  Greek  church  and  of  American  Prot- 
estant missionaries  becomes  one  of  mutual  delicacy  and 
difficulty.  The  church  allows  religious  liberty,  and  as- 
sumes religious  tolerance.  Yet  it  naturally  holds  fast 
its  own  children  within  its  own  borders.  The  Protes- 
tants are  pledged  to  labor  for  the  world's  Christianiza- 
tion.  When  they  see  its  progress  opposed  by  antiquated 
usage  and  insufficient  method,  they  cannot  acquiesce  in 
these  obstacles,  nor  teach  others  to  revere  them.     Here 


233  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

we  must  say  at  once  that  no  act  is  so  irreligious  as  the 
resistance  of  progress.  Thought  and  conscience  are 
progressive.  Christ's  progressive  hiljor  carried  further 
the  Jcwisli  faith  and  tciicts  which  were  religious  heforc 
he  came,  hut  which  hccanie  irreligious  in  resisting  the 
further  and  finer  conclusions  to  which  he  led.  "  I  ccjuie 
not  to  destroy,  but  to  fullll."  Progress  does  fullil  in 
the  spirit,  even  though  it  destroy  in  the  letter.  Protes- 
tantism acknowledges  this,  and  this  acknowledgment 
constitutes  its  superiority  over  the  Greek  and  Catholic 
churches.  The  sincere  reader  of  the  New  Testament 
will  be  ever  more  and  more  disposed  to  make  his  re- 
ligion a  matter  lying  directly  between  himself  and  the 
Divine  Being.  His  outward  conformity  to  all  just  laws 
and  good  institutions  will  be,  not  the  less,  but  the  more, 
perfect  because  his  scale  of  obligation  is  an  individual 
one,  the  spring  and  motive  of  his  actions  a  deeply  in- 
ward one.  Church  and  state  gain  in  soundness  and 
efficiency  by  every  individual  conscience  that  functions 
within  their  bounds.  Religion  of  this  sort  leads  away 
from  human  mediations,  from  confessions,  benedictions, 
injunctions,  and  permissions  of.mercly  human  authority. 
It  confesses  first  to  God,  afterwartis,  if  at  all,  to  those 
whom  its  confessions  can  benefit.  It  brings  its  own 
thought  to  aid  antl  illustrate  the  general  thought.  It 
cannot  abdicate  its  own  conclusions  before  any  magni- 
tude either  of  intellect  or  of  age. 

The  Protestant,  therefore,  would  be  much  straitened 
within  the  Greek  limits.  He  is  forced  to  teach  those 
who  will  listen  to  him  that  God  is  much  nearer  than 


THE    MISSIONARIES.  233 

the  priest,  and  that  their  own  simple  and  sincere  under- 
standing of  Christian  doctrine  is  at  once  more  just  and 
more  precious  than  the  faUacies  and  sophisms  of  an 
absolute  theology.  Such  teaching  will  scarcely  be  more 
relished  by  the  Greek  than  by  the  Romish  clergy  ;  yet 
the  Protestant  must  teach  this,  or  be  silent. 

And  this,  after  their  fashion,  the  American  missiona- 
ries do  set  forth  and  illustrate.  Their  merits  and  de- 
merits I  am  not  here  to  discuss.  How  much  of  polite 
culture,  of  sufficient  philosophy,  goes  with  their  honest 
purpose,  it  is  not  at  this  time  my  business  to  know  or 
to  say.  Neither  is  their  special  theology  mine.  They 
believe  in  a  literal  atonement,  while  I  believe  in  the 
symbolism  which  makes  a  pure  and  blameless  sufferer 
a  victim  offered  in  behalf  of  his  enemies.  They  look 
for  a  miraculous,  I  for  a  moral  regeneration.  They 
make  Christ  divine  of  birth,  I  make  him  simply  divine 
of  life.  Their  dogmas  would  reconcile  God  to  man, 
mine  would  only  reconcile  man  to  God.  Finally, 
they  revere  as  absolute  and  divine  a  book  which  I 
hold  to  be  a  human  record  of  surpassing  thoughts 
and  actions,  but  with  the  short-comings,  omissions, 
and  errors  of  the  human  historiographer  stamped  upon 
them.  With  all  this  diversity  of  opinion  between  the 
church  of  their  communion  and  that  of  mine,  I  still 
honor,  beyond  all  difference,  the  Protestant  cause  for 
which  they  stand  in  Greece,  and  consider  their  repre- 
sentation a  just  and  genuine  one. 

In  writing  this  I  have  had  in  mind  the  three  dissent- 
ing missionaries,  Messrs.  Kalopothaki,  Constantine,  and 


23-4  FROM    Till':    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

Zacularius.  The  older  mission  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Hill  is 
an  educational  one.  1  believe  it  lo  have  borne  the  hap- 
piest fruits  for  Greece.  Whenever  I  have  met  a  scholar 
of  Mrs.  Hill,  I  have  seen  the  traces  of  a  firm,  pure,  and 
gentle  hand  —  one  to  which  the  wisest  and  tendcrest  of 
us  would  willingly  confide  our  daughters.  In  raising  the 
whole  scale  of  feminine  education  in  Greece,  she  has 
applied  the  most  i^otcnt  and  subtle  agent  for  the  elevation 
of  its  whole  society.  She  herself  is  childless ;  but  she 
need  scarcely  regret  it,  since  whole  generations  are  sure 
to  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed. 

Dr.  Hill  is  at  present  chaplain  to  the  English  embassy, 
at  whose  chapel  he  preaches  weekly.  Mrs.  Hill  and 
himself  seem  to  stand  in  very  harmonious  relations  with 
Athenian  society,  as  well  as  with  the  travelling  and 
visiting  world. 

The  missionaries  preach  and  practise  with  unremit- 
ting zeal.  They  also  publibh  a  weekly  religious  paper. 
Their  wives  labor  faithfully  in  the  aid  and  employment 
of  the  Cretan  women  and  children,  and,  I  doubt  not,  in 
other  good  works.  But  of  these  things  I  have  now 
told  the  little  that  1  know. 

The  Piazza. 

Venice  has  a  Piazza,  gorgeous  with  shops,  lights,  mu- 
sic, and,  above  all,  the  joyous  life  of  the  people.  Athens 
also  has  a  Piazza,  bordered  with  hotels  and  cafes,  with 
a  square  of  trees  and  flowering  shrubs  in  the  middle. 
It  lies  broadly  open  to  the  sun  all  day  long,  and  gives 
back  his  rays  with   a   torrid   refraction.     When   day  de- 


THE    PIAZZA.  235 

dines,  the  evening  breezes  sweep  it  refreshingly.  Accord- 
ingly, as  soon  as  the  shadows  permit,  the  sjjaces  in  front 
of  the  cafes  —  or,  in  Greek,  caffe?ieio}is — are  crowded 
with  chairs  and  tables,  the  chairs  being  filled  by  human 
beings,  many  of  whom  have  ripened,  so  far  as  the  head 
goes,  into  a  fez  —  have  unfolded,  so  far  as  the  costume 
goes,  into  pali-kari  petticoats  and  leggings.  Between 
the  two  hotels  is  mortal  antipathy.  Ours  —  "  Des  Etran- 
gers"  —  has  taken  the  lead,  and  manages  to  keep  it. 
The  prices  of  the  other  are  lower,  the  cuisine  much  the 
same,  the  upper  windows  set  to  command  a  view  of  the 
Acropolis,  which  is  in  itself  an  unsurpassable  picture. 
Where  the  magic  resides  which  keeps  our  hotel  full  and 
the  other  empty,  I  know  not,  unless  it  be  in  the  slippery 
Eastern  smile  of  the  landlord  —  an  expression  of  counte- 
nance so  singular  that  it  inevitably  leads  you,  from  curi- 
osity, to  follow  it  further.  In  our  case  it  led  to  no 
profound  of  wickedness.  We  were  not  cheated,  nor 
plundered,  nor  got  the  better  of  in  any  way  that  I  re- 
member. Our  food  was  good,  our  rooms  proper,  our 
charges  just.  Yet  I  felt,  whenever  I  encountered  the 
smile,  that  it  angled  for  me,  and  caught  me  on  a  hook 
cunningly  baited. 

I  must  say  that  our  landlord  was  even  generous.  Be- 
sides our  three  meals  per  diein^  —  which  grew  to  be 
very  slender  affairs,  so  far  as  we  were  concerned,  —  we 
often  required  lemonades  and  lokumia,  besides  sending  of 
errands  innumerable.  For  these  indulgences  no  extra 
charge  was  made.  In  an  Italian,  French,  or  English 
hotel,  each  one  of  them  would  have  had  its  penitentiary 


236  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

record.  So  the  mystery  of  the  smile  must  have  had 
reference  to  matters  deeply  personal  to  its  wearer,  and 
never  made  known  to  me. 

The  cafes  seemed  to  maintain  a  thrifty  existence. 
But  one  of  them  took  especial  pains  to  secure  the  ser- 
vices of  a  band  of  music.  Hence,  on  the  evenings  when 
the  public  band  did  not  play,  emanated  the  usual  capric- 
cios  from  Norma,  Trovatore,  and  the  agonies  of  Tra- 
viata.  Something  better  and  worse  than  all  this  was 
given  to  us  in  the  shape  of  certain  ancient  Greek  or 
Turkish  melodies,  obviously  composed  in  ignorance  of 
all  rules  of  thorough-bass,  with  a  confusion  of  majors  and 
minors  most  perplexing  to  the  classic,  but  interesting  to 
the  historic  sense.  I  rejoiced  especially  in  one  of  these, 
which  bore  the  same  relation  to  good  harmony  that  Eas- 
tern dress  bears  to  good  composition  of  color.  It  was 
obviously  well  liked  by  the  public,  as  it  was  usually 
played  more  than  once  during  the  same  evening. 

Before  the  shadows  grew  quite  dark,  a  barouche  or 
two,  with  ladies  and  livery,  would  drive  across  the  Piaz- 
za, giving  a  whiff  of  fashion  like  the  gleam  of  red  cos- 
tume that  heightens  a  landscape.  And  the  people  sat, 
ate  and  drank,  came  and  went,  in  sober  gladness,  not 
laughing  open-mouthcil  —  rather  smiling  with  their 
eyes.  From  our  narrow  hotel  balcony  wc  used  to 
look  down  and  wonder  whether  we  should  ever  be 
cool  again.  For  though  the  evenings  were  not  sultry, 
their  length  did  not  suffice  to  reduce  the  fever  of  the  day. 
And  the  night  within  the  mosquito-nettings  was  an 
agony  of  perspiration.    I  now  sit  in  Venice,  and  am  cool ; 


DEPARTURE.  237 

but  I  would  gladly  suffer  something  to  hear  the  weird 

music,  and  to  see  the  cheerful  Piazza  again.     Yet  when 

I  was  there,  for  ten  minutes  of  this  sea-breeze  over  the 

lagoons  I  would    have    given  —  Heaven    knows    what. 

O  Esau  ! 

Departure. 

Too  soon,  too  soon  for  all  of  us,  these  rare  and  costly 
delights  were  ended.  We  had  indeed  suffered  days 
of  Fahrenheit  at  100°  in  the  shade.  We  had  made 
experience  of  states  of  body  which  are  termed  bilious, 
of  states  of  mind  more  or  less  splenetic,  lethargic,  and 
irritable.  We  dreamed  always  of  islands  we  were  never 
to  visit,  of  ruins  which  we  shall  know,  according  to 
the  flesh,  never.  We  pored  over  Muir  and  Miss 
Bremer,  and  feebly  devised  outbreaks  towards  the 
islands,  towards  the  Cyclades,  Santorini,  but  especially 
towards  Corinth,  whose  acropolis  rested  steadily  in  our 
wishes,  resting  in  our  memory  only  as  a  wish.  To- 
wards Constantinople,  too,  our  uncertain  destinies  had 
one  moment  pointed.  But  when  the  word  of  command 
came,  it  despatched  us  westward,  and  not  eastward.  By 
this  time  our  life  had  become  somewhat  too  literally  a 
vapor,  and  our  sublimated  brains  were  with  difficulty 
condensed  to  the  act  of  packing.  Perpetual  thirst  tor- 
mented us.  And  of  this  as  of  other  Eastern  tempta- 
tions, I  must  say,  "  Resist  it."  Drinking  does  not 
relieve  this  symptom  of  hot  climates.  It,  moreover, 
utterly  destroys  the  tone  of  the  stomach.  A  little  tea  is 
the  safest  refreshment ;  and  even  this  should  not  be 
taken  in  copious  draughts.    Patience  and  self-control  are 


238  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    TIIIO    OLIVE. 

essential  to  bodily  health  and  comfort  under  these  torrid 
skies.  The  little  food  one  can  take  should  be  of  the 
order  usually  characterized  as  ''  nutritious  and  easy  of 
digestion."  But  so  far  as  health  goes,  "  Avoid  Athens 
in  midsummer"  will  be  the  safest  direction,  and  will 
obviate  the  necessity  of  all  others. 

In  spite,  however,  of  all  symptoms  and  inconveniences, 
the  mandate  that  said,  "  Pack  and  go,"  struck  a  chill 
to  our  collective  heart.  We  visited  all  the  dear  spots, 
gave  pledges  of  constancy  to  all  the  kind  friends,  tried 
with  our  weak  sight  to  photograph  the  precious  views 
upon  our  memory.  Then,  with  a  sort  of  agony,  we  hur- 
ried our  possessions,  new  and  old,  into  the  usual  narrow 
receptacles,  saw  all  accounts  discharged,  feed  the  hotel 
servants,  took  the  smile  for  the  last  time,  and  found  our- 
selves dashing  along  the  road  to  the  Pirieus  with  feel- 
ings very  unlike  the  jubilation  in  which  we  fh'st  passed 
that  classic  transit.  It  was  all  over  now,  like  a  first  love, 
like  a  first  authorship,  like  a  honey-moon.  It  was  over. 
We  could  not  say  that  we  had  not  had  it.  But  O,  the 
void  of  not  having  it  now,  of  never  expecting  to  have 
il  again  ! 

Kiiul  friends  went  with  us  to  soften  the  journey. 
At  the  boat.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Hill  met  and  waited  with 
us.  I  parted  from  the  apostolic  woman  with  sincere 
good-will  and  regret.  Warned  to  be  on  board  by  six 
P.  M.,  the  boat  did  not  start  till  half-past  seven.  We 
waved  last  adieus.  We  clung  to  the  last  glimpses  of  the 
Acropolis,  of  the  mountains;  but  they  soon  passed  out 
of  sight.     Wc  savagely  went  below  and  to  bed.      The 


RETURN    VOYAGE.  239 

diary  bears  this  little  extract :  "  The  yEgean  was  calm 
and  blue.  Thus,  with  great  pleasure  and  interest, 
and  with  some  drawbacks,  ends  my  visit  to  Athens.  A 
dream  —  a  dream  !  " 

Return  Voyage. 
To  narrate  the  circumstances  of  our  return  voyage 
would  seem  much  like  descending  from  the  poetic  de- 
noueiuent  of  a  novel  to  all  the  prosaic  steps  by  which 
the  commonplace  regains  its  inevitable  ascendency  after 
no  matter  what  abdication  in  favor  of  the  heroic.  Yet, 
as  travel  is  travel,  whether  outward  or  inward  bound, 
and  as  our  homeward  cruise  had  features,  I  will  try, 
with  the  help  of  the  diary,  to  pick  them  out  of  the  van- 
ishing chaos  of  memory,  premising  only  tliat  I  have  no 
further  denouement  to  give. 

"  Story?   Lord  bless  you,  I  have  none  to  tell,  sir." 

On  referring,  therefore,  to  Clayton's  quarto,  of  the  date 
of  July  31,  1S67,  I  find  the  day  to  have  been  passed 
by  us  all  in  the  hot  harbor  of  Syra,  on  board  the  boat 
that  brought  us  there.  At  seven  A.  M.  we  did  indeed 
land  in  a  small  boat  with  Vice-Consul  Saponsaki,  and 
betake  ourselves  through  several  of  the  steep  and  sun- 
ny streets  of  the  town.  At  one  of  the  two  hotels  we 
staid  long  enough  to  order  lemonades  and  drink  them. 
The  said  hotel  appeared,  on  a  cursory  survey,  to  be  as 
dirty  and  disorderly  as  need  be ;  but  we  soon  escaped 
therefrom,  and  visited  the  theatre,  the  Casino,  and  the 
Austrian  consul.     The    Casino    is   spacious  and  hand- 


240  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

some,  giving  evidence  at  once  of  wealth  and  of  taste  in 
those  who  caused  it  to  be  built.  Such  an  establishment 
would  be  a  boon  in  Athens,  where  there  is  no  good 
public  reading-room  of  any  kind.  The  theatre  is  rea- 
sonable. Here,  in  winter,  a  short  opera  season  is  en- 
joyed, and,  in  consequence,  the  music  books  of  the 
young  ladies  teem  with  arrangements  of  Vcrtli  and  of 
Donizetti.  We  found  the  square  near  the  quay  lively 
with  the  early  enjoyers  of  cotlee  and  the  narghile. 
Every  precious  inch  of  shade  was,  as  usual,  carefully 
appropriated  ;  but  the  sun  was  rapitlly  narrowing  the 
boundaries  of  the  shadow  district.  Our  chief  errand 
resulted  in  the  purchase  of  an  ok  of  lokuiuias^  which 
we  virtuously  resolved  to  carry  to  America,  if  possible. 
The  little  boat  now  returned  us  to  the  steamer,  where 
breakfast  and  dinner  quietly  succeeded  each  other,  little 
worthy  of  record  occurring  between.  One  interesting 
half  hour  reached  us  in  the  shape  of  a  visit  from  Papa 
Parthenius,  a  young  and  active  member  of  the  Cretan 
Syn-eleusis.  He  came  with  tidings  for  our  chief  veter- 
an, —  tales  of  the  Turks,  and  how  they  could  get  no  water 
at  Svakia  ;  tidings  also  of  brave  young  DeKay,  and  of  his 
good  service  in  behalf  of  the  island.  \Vhile  these,  in  the 
dreadful  secrecy  of  an  unknown  tongue,  imparl  he  cHd, 
I  seized  pen  and  ink,  and  ennobled  my  iniworthy  sketch- 
book with  a  croqiiis  of  his  fmely-bronzed  visage.  His 
countenance  was  such  as  Miss  Bremer  would  have 
called  dark  and  energetic.  He  wore  the  dress  of  his 
calling,  which  was  that  of  the  secular  priesthood.  He 
soon  detected  my  occupation,  and  said,  in  Greek,  "  I 


RETURN   VOYAGE.  241 

regret  that   the  kyrie    should    make   my  portrait  with- 
out my  arms." 

We  parted  from  him  very  cordially.  Consul  Camp- 
field  afterwards  gave  us  a  refreshing  row  about  the 
harbor,  bringing  us  within  view  of  the  two  iron-clads 
newly  purchased  and  brought  out  to  run  the  Turkish 
blockade.  One  of  these  was  famous  in  the  annals  of 
Secessia.  Both  served  that  more  than  doubtful  cause. 
Then  we  went  back  to  the  vessel,  and  the  rest  of  the 
day  did  not  get  beyond  perspiration  and  patience. 

Towards  evening  a  spirited  breeze  began  to  lash  the 
waters  of  the  harbor  into  hilly  madness.  White  caps 
showed  themselves,  and  we,  who  were  to  embark  on 
board  another  vessel,  for  another  voyage,  took  note  of  the 
same.  The  friendly  Evangelides  now  came  on  board, 
and  scolded  us  for  not  having  sent  him  word  of  our  ar- 
rival. We  pleaded  the  extreme  heat  of  the  day,  which 
had  made  dreadful  the  idea  of  visiting  and  of  locomo- 
tion of  any  sort.  He  was  clad  from  head  to  foot  in 
white  linen,  and  looked  most  comfortable.  While  he 
was  yet  with  us,  the  summons  of  departure  came.  In 
our  chief's  plans,  meanwhile,  a  change  had  taken  place- 
Determining  causes  induced  him  to  return  to  Athens, 
minus  his  ^cmdA^  impedimenta :  so  the  little  boat  that 
danced  with  us  from  the  Llojd's  Syra  to  the  Lloyd's 
Trieste  steamer  danced  back  with  him,  leaving  three 
disconsolate  ones,  bereft  of  Greece,  and  unprotected  of 
all  and  any.  Nor  did  we  make  this  second  start  with- 
out a  contretemps.  Having  bidden  the  chief  farewell, 
we  proceeded  at  once  to  take  account  of  our  luggage  ; 
16 


243  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

and  lo  !  the  shawl  huncllc  was  not.  Now,  every  know- 
iu'i  traveller  is  aware  that  this  article  of  travcllins:  fiir- 
niturc  contains  mucii  besides  the  shawl,  which  is  but  the 
envelope  of  all  the  odds  and  ends  usually  most  essential 
to  comfort.  For  the  second  in  command,  therefore,  pre- 
viously designated  as  a  Dicgale^  there  was  but  one  course 
to  pursue.  To  hire  a  boat,  refuse  to  be  cheated  in  its 
price,  tumble  down  the  ship's  side,  row  to  the  Syra 
steamer,  pick  up  the  missing  bundle,  astonish  the  chief 
in  a  jjensive  reverie,  "  slbi  ct  suls"  on  the  cabin  sofa,  and 
return  triumphant,  was  the  work  of  ten  minutes.  But 
the  sea  ran  high,  the  little  boat  danced  like  a  cockle- 
shell, and  the  neophytes  were  afraid,  and  much  relieved 
in  mind  when  the  ancient  reappeared. 

The  America  (the  Trieste  steamer)  did  not  weigh 
anchor  before  midnight.  Soon  after  the  adventure  of 
the  shawl  bundle,  the  Syra  steamer  fired  a  gun,  and 
slipped  out  to  sea.  We  had  seen  the  last  of  the  chief 
for  a  fortnight  at  least,  and  our  attention  was  now 
turned  to  the  quarters  we  were  to  occupy  for  four  days 
to  come.  These  did  not  at  first  sight  seem  very  prom- 
ising. Our  state-rooms  were  small,  and  bare  of  all  fur- 
niture, except  the  bed  and  washing  fixtures.  Just  out- 
side of  them,  on  the  deck,  was  the  tent  under  which 
the  Turkish  women  horded.  For  we  found,  on  coming 
on  board,  a  Turkish  pacha  and  suite,  bound  from  Con- 
stantinople to  Janina,  to  take  the  place  of  him  whom  we 
had,  a  month  Ijcforc,  accompanied  on  his  way  from 
Janina   to  Constantinople,  via  Corfu,  where  we  were   to 


RETURN    VOYAGE.  243 

be  quit  of  the  present  dignitary.  But  before  I  get  to 
the  Turks,  I  must  mention  that  good  Christian,  the 
Austrian  consul  at  Syra,  who  came  on  board  before  we 
left,  and  introduced  to  me  a  young  man  in  an  alarming 
condition  of  health,  a  Venetian  by  birth,  and  an  officer 
in  the  Austrian  navy.  His  illness  had  been  induced  by 
exposure  incident  to  his  profession  in  the  hot  harbor 
of  Kanea. 

The  first  night  we  made  acquaintance  only  with  va- 
rious screaming  babies,  the  torment  of  young  mothers 
who  did  not  know  how  to  take  care  of  them,  their 
nurses  having  been  left  at  home.  The  night  was  suffi- 
ciently disturbed  up  to  the  period  of  departure,  and 
these  little  ones  vented  their  displeasure  in  tones  which 
argued  well  for  their  lungs.  The  next  morning  showed 
us  a  rough  sea,  the  vessel  pitching  and  tossing,  the  ladies 
mostly  sea  sick  —  we  ourselves  well  and  about,  but  much 
incommoded  by  heat  and  want  of  room.  A  tall  mem- 
ber of  the  pacha's  suite  came  into  our  little  round  house, 
dressed  principally  in  a  short,  quilted  sack  of  bright  red 
calico.  He  carried  in  his  arms  a  teething  baby,  very 
dirty  and  ill-dressed,  and  tried  to  nurse  and  soothe  it  on 
his  knee,  the  mother  being  totally  incapacitated  by  sea- 
sickness. This  man  was  tall  and  fair.  I  thought  he 
might  be  an  Albanian.  1  made  some  incautious  re- 
marks in  French  concerning  his  dress,  which  he  obvi- 
ously understood,  for  he  disappeared,  and  then  reap- 
peared dressed  in  a  handsome  European  suit,  with  a 
bran-new  fez  on  his  head,  but  carrying  no  baby.  An- 
other of  the  suite,  unmistakably  a  Turk,  pestered  the 


244  FROM    TJIE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

round-house.  This  individual  wore  wliitc  cotton  draw- 
ers under  a  long  calico  night  shirt  of  a  faded  lilac  pattern, 
which  was  bound  about  his  waist  witli  a  strip  of 
yellow  calico.  The  articles  of  this  toilet  were  far  from 
clean.  Glasses  and  a  fez  completed  it.  The  wearer  we 
learned  to  be  a  fanatical  Turk,  who  came  among  us  in 
this  disorderly  dress  to  show  his  contempt  for  Christians 
in  general.  His  motive  was  held  to  be,  in  his  creed,  a 
religious  one.  It  further  caused  him  to  take  his  meals 
separately  from  us  —  a  circumstance  which  we  scarcely 
regretted.  He  was  much  amazed  at  the  worsted  work 
in  the  hands  of  one  of  the  neophytes,  and  went  so  far 
as  to  take  it  up,  and  to  ask  a  bystander  who  spoke  his 
language  whether  the  young  girl  spun  the  wools  her- 
self before  she  began  her  tapestry.  He  then  asked  the 
price  of  the  wools,  and  on  hearing  the  reply  exclaimed, 
"What  land  on  earth  equals  Turkey,  where  you  can  buy 
the  finest  wool  for  twelve  piastres  an  ok  !  " 

Besides  these  not  very  appetizing  figures,  we  had  on 
board  some  Fanariote  Greeks,  of  aristocratic  pretensions 
and  Turkish  principles  ;  some  Hellenes  of  the  true  Greek 
stainp  ;  a  Dalmatian  sea  captain,  his  wife  and  dauglUers, 
who  spoke  Italian  and  looked  German  ;  an  Armenian 
lady  and  young  daughter  from  Constantinople,  bound  to 
Paris  ;  several  Greeks  resident  in  Transylvania,  speaking 
Greek  and  German  with  equal  facility  ;  two  Armenian 
priests  returning  from  an  Eastern  mission,  and  en  route 
for  Vienna;  the  Austro-Italian  before  spoken  of;  a  Bo- 
hemian glass  merchant ;  and  an  array  of  deck  passen- 
gers as  varied  and  motley  as  those   already  enumerated 


RETURN    VOYAGE.  245 

as  belonging  to  the  first  cabin.  With  all  of  the  latter 
we  made  acquaintance  ;  but  although  we  moved  among 
them  with  cordiality  and  good-will,  the  equilibrium  of 
sympathy  was  difficult  to  find.  The  Fanariotes  were  no 
Philhellenes,  the  Armenian  ladies  were  frequenters  of 
the  sultan's  palace  ;  the  Italian  was  thoroughly  German 
in  his  inclinations,  and  spoke  in  utter  dispraise  of  his  own 
country  when  his  feeble  condition  allowed  him  to  speak. 
Of  the  Armenian  priests,  one  was  quite  a  man  of  the 
world,  and  somewhat  reserved  and  suspicious.  The  other 
showed  something  of  the  infirmity  of  advanced  age  in 
the  prolixity  of  his  speech,  as  well  as  in  its  matter.  In 
this  Noah's  ark  e  inegale  moved  about,  mindful  of  the 
bull  in  the  china  shop,  and  tried  not  to  upset  this  one's 
mustard-pot  and  that  one's  vase  of  perfume.  And  as 
all  were  whole  when  she  parted  from  them,  she  has 
reason  to  hope  that  her  efforts  were  tolerably  successful. 
In  the  human  variety  shop  just  described,  I  must  not 
forget  to  speak  of  my  sisters,  the  Turkish  women,  im- 
prisoned in  a  small  portion  of  the  deck,  protected  by 
a  curtain  from  all  intrusion  or  inspection.  As  this 
sacred  precinct  lay  along  the  outside  partition  of  the 
ladies'  cabin,  I  became  aware  of  a  remote  window, 
through  which  a  practicable  breach  might  be  made  in 
their  fortress.  Thither,  on  the  first  day,  I  repaired,  and 
paid  my  compliments.  They  were,  I  think,  five  in 
number,  and  lay  along  on  mattresses,  disconsolately 
enough.  With  the  help  of  the  stewardess,  I  inquired 
after  their  health,  and  learned  that  seasickness  held 
them  prostrate  and  helpless.     Nothing  ate  they,  noth- 


246  FROM    THE    OAK     TO    THE    OLIVE, 

ing  drank  they.  Two  of  them  were  young  and  pretty. 
Of  tlicsc,  one  was  the  wife  of  the  bey  who  accompa- 
nied the  pacha.  .She  had  a  ilehcatc  cast  of  features, 
mehuicholy  dark  eyCvS,  and  dark  hair  bound  up  with  a 
lilac  crape  handkerchief.  The  other  was  the  mother 
of  the  teething  child  spoken  of  above,  and  the  wife  of 
the  tall  parent  who  nursed  it.  By  noon  on  the  second 
day  the  sea  had  sunk  to  almost  glassy  smoothness.  All 
of  the  patients  were  up  and  about;  the  children  were 
freshly  washetl  and  dressed,  and  became  coaxable.  One 
of  the  Armenian  ladies  now  volunteered  to  go  with  me 
to  look  in  upon  our  Turkish  friends.  We  found  them 
up  and  stirring,  making  themselves  ready  to  land  at 
Corfu.  And  to  my  companion  they  told  what  good 
messes  they  had  brouglit  from  Constantinople,  and 
thrown  into  the  blue  yEgean  ;  for  the  heat  of  the  vessel 
spoiled  their  victuals  much  faster  than  they,  being  sea- 
sick, could  keep  them  from  spoiling.  And  they  laughed 
over  their  past  suilcrings  much  after  the  fashion  of 
other  women.  The  pretty  mother  now  appeared  in  a 
loose  gown  of  3ellow  calico,  holding  up  her  baby.  I 
made  a  hasty  sketch  of  the  pair  as  they  showed  them- 
selves at  the  cabin  window  ;  but  the  flat,  glaring  light 
did  not  allow  me  to  do  even  as  well  as  usual,  whicli  is 
saying  little.  The  oval  face,  smooth,  black  brows,  and 
long,  liquid  eyes,  were  beautiful,  and  her  smile  was 
touchingly  child-like  and  innocent.  The  bey's  wife  wore 
a  lilac  calico  ;  another  wore  pale  green.  These  dresses 
consisted  of  loose  gowns,  with  imder-trousers  of  the 
same  material  ;   they  were  utterly  mmeat  and  tasteless. 


RETURN    VOYAGE.  247 

I  presently  saw  them  put  on  their  yashmacs,  and  draw 
over  their  calicoes  a  sort  of  cloak  of  black  stuff,  not  un- 
like alpaca.  They  now  looked  very  decently,  and, 
being  covered,  were  allowed  to  sit  on  deck  until  the 
time  of  the  arrival  in  Corfu.  The  pretty  one  whom  1 
sketched  begged  to  look  at  my  work.  On  seeing  it  she 
exclaimed,  "  Let  no  man  ever  behold  this  !  "  Nor  could  I 
blame  her,  for  it  maligned  her  sadly.  Concerning  the 
landing  in  Corfu,  the  meagre  diary  shows  this  passage  :  — 
"  Went  on  shore  at  Corfu  at  5.45  P.  M.,  returning  at 
6.50.  Expenses  in  all,  ten  francs,  including  boat,  ices, 
and  valet  de  place.  The  steamer  was  so  hot  that  this 
short  visit  on  shore  was  a  great  relief,  Corfu  being  at 
this  hour  very  breezy  and  shady.  Every  one  says  that 
the  Ionian  Islands  are  going  to  ruin  since  the  departure 
of  the  English.  This  is  from  the  want  of  capital  and 
of  enterprise.  So  it  would  seem  as  if  people  who  have 
no  enterprise  of  their  own  must  be  content  to  thrive 
secondarily  upon  that  of  other  people.  The  whole  type 
of  Greek  life,  however,  is  opposed  to  the  Occidental 
type.  Its  luxury  is  to  be  in  health,  and  to  be  satisfied 
with  little.  We  Westerns  illustrate  the  multiplication 
of  wants  with  that  of  resources,  or  vice  versa.  [The 
diary,  prudently,  does  not  attempt  to  decide  the  ques- 
tion of  antecedence  and  consequence  between  these 
two.]  The  Greeks  seem,  so  far,  to  illustrate  the 
converse.  Whether  this  opposition  can  endure  in  the 
present  day,  I  cannot  foresee.  But  this  I  can  see  —  that 
Greece  will  not  have  more  luxury  without  more  poverty. 
The  circle  of  wealth,  enlarging,  will   more  and  more 


248  FKOM    THE    OAK    TO    THK    OLIVE. 

crowd  those  who  are  unfitted  to  attain  it,  and  who  must 
be  content  witli  the  minimum  even  of  food  and  rai- 
ment." 

So  far  the  pitiful,  sea-addled  diary.  It  does  not  re- 
count how  mercifully  the  captain  of  our  steamer  found 
a  valet  de  place  for  us,  and  told  him  to  take  care  of  us, 
and  bring  us  back  at  a  given  moment.  Nor  how  our 
payment  of  ten  francs  for  three  persons,  instead  of 
Heaven  knows  what  exorbitation,  was  owing  to  this 
circumstance.  For  it  may  not  be  known  to  the  inex- 
perienced that  the  boatmen  of  Corfu  are  wont  to  make 
a  very  moderate  charge  for  setting  people  ashore  on  the 
island.  This  is  done  in  order  to  disarm  suspicion  : 
facile  descensus  Averni  —  scd  rcvocare  gradtim  !  But 
when  you  wish  to  return  to  your  vessel,  the  need  being 
pressing,  and  the  time  admitting  of  no  delay,  the  same 
boatmen  ax-e  wont  to  demand  fifteen  or  twenty  francs 
per  capita^  and  the  more  you  swear  the  more  they 
laugh.  Among  the  arrearages  of  justice  adjourned  to 
that  supreme  chancery  term,  the  Day  of  Judgment,  I 
fear  there  must  be  many  of  English  et  al.  vs.  boat- 
men. But  under  the  captain's  happy  administration,  I 
made  bold,  when  the  boatman  insisted  on  being  paid 
for  the  return  trip  in  mid-sea,  to  refuse  a  single  copper. 
Now,  the  gift  of  unknown  tongues  sometimes  resides 
in  the  person  who  hears  them.  And  I  received  it  as 
a  decided  advantage  that  I  understood  no  phrase  of 
the  boatmen's  low  muttering  and  grumbling.  So  they 
were  forced  to  carry  us  to  the  gangway  of  the  steamer, 
where  the   captain   stood    to  receive  us.       And  I  paid 


FARTHER.  249 

the  men  and  the  valet  under  the  captain's  supennsion, 
and  when  the  former  demanded  a  bottigUa^  the  captain 
cried  out,  in  energetic  tones,  "  Get  off  of  my  ship  at 
once,  you  scoundrels;  you  have  been  well  paid  al- 
ready ;  "  the  which  indeed  befell. 

Neither  does  the  diary  recount  how  the  drivers  of 
public  carriages  followed  us  up  and  down  the  streets, 
insisting  upon  our  engaging  them,  first  at  their  price, 
and  then  at  ours,  for  a  trip  which  we  had  neither  time 
nor  mind  to  make,  desisting  after  half  an  hour's  annoy- 
ance ;  nor  how  a  money  changer,  given  a  napoleon, 
contrived  to  make  up  one  of  its  francs  by  slipping  in 
two  miserable  Turkish  par  as  ^  not  worth  half  a  franc ; 
nor  how  the  whistle  of  the  steamer  made  our  return 
very  anxious  and  hurried,  the  passengers  accusing  us 
of  having  delayed  the  departure,  while  the  captain  con- 
fided to  us  that  he  had  assumed  this  air  of  extreme 
hurry,  in  order  to  stimulate  the  disembarkation  of  the 
Turks,  whose  theory  of  taking  one's  own  time  was 
somewhat  loosely  applied  in  the  present  instance. 
Well,  this  is  all  I  know  of  Corfu.  It  is  little  enough, 
and  yet,  perhaps,  too  much. 

Farther. 

Coi'fu  was  the  last  of  Greece  to  us.  A  tightening  at 
our  heartstrings  told  us  so.  We  consented  to  depart, 
but  conquered  the  agony  of  making  farewell  verses, 
dear  at  any  price,  in  the  then  state  of  the  thermometer. 
Our  feelings,  such  as  they  were,  were  mutely  exchanged 
with    the    bronze    statue    of    that    late    governor,    who 


250  FllOM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

brought  the  water  into  the  town.  Unless  lie  should 
prove  as  frisky  as  the  Coinmcudatore  in  Don  Giovanni, 
they  will  never  be  divulged. 

We  now  set  our  faces,  in  conjunction  with  the  tide  of 
conquest,  westward.  We  all  suflered  heat,  ennui,  and 
baby-yell.  The  Italian  invalid  languished  in  his  hot 
state-room,  or  in  our  cabin,  his  weak  condition  increas- 
ing the  dangerous  discomfort  of  j^erspiration  —  a  grave 
matter  when  a  chill  woidd  be  death.  Worsted  work 
progressed,  the  hungry  sketch-book  got  a  nibble  or  two, 
and  the  mild  good-wills  of  the  voyage  ripened,  never, 
we  fear,  to  bear  future  harvests  of  profit  and  inter- 
course. Not  the  less  were  we  beholden  to  them  for  the 
time.  And  we  will  even  praise  thee  here,  Armenian 
Anna,  with  thy  young  graces,  thy  Eastern  beauty,  thy 
charming  English,  and  thoroughly  genial  behavior. 
INIother  and  daughter  had  distinction^  in  the  French 
sense  of  the  word.  From  the  former  I  had  many 
apcrvus  of  Eastern  life.  She  was  married  at  the  early 
age  of  fourteen,  and  wore  on  that  occasion  the  tradi- 
tional veiling  of  threads  of  gold,  bound  on  her  brow 
and  falling  to  her  feet.  "  How  glad  I  was  to  remove 
it,"  she  said,  "  it  was  so  heavy  !  "  "  What  did  you  do 
with  it?"  I  asked.  "  I  divided  it  into  several  portions, 
and  endowed  with  them  the  marriage  of  poorer  girls, 
who  coukl  not  allbrd  it  for  themselves."  But  madamc 
informed  me  that  this  cumbrous  ornament  has  now 
passed  out  of  fashion,  the  tulle  veil  and  orange  flowers 
of  French  usage  having  generally  tal'^cn  its  place.  This 
lady  was  supposed  by  most  people  to  be  the  elder  sister  of 


FARTHER.  25 1 

her  pretty  daughter.  In  her  soberer  beauty  one  seemed 
to  see  the  dancing  eyes  and  pouting  cheeks  of  the  other 
carried  only  a  Httle  farther  on.  And  both  were  among 
the  chief  comforts  of  the  voyage. 

Of  the  two  Armenian  priests,  the  younger  held  him- 
self aloof,  as  if  he  understood  full  well  the  inconven- 
iences of  sympathy  —  a  dry,  steely,  well-balanced  man, 
without  enthusiasm,  but  fine  in  temperament,  well  bred, 
and  with  at  least  the  culture  of  a  man  of  the  present 
world.  But  Pere  Michel,  the  elder,  was  more  willing 
to  impart  his  mental  gifts  and  experiences  to  such  as 
would  hear  them.  And  he  was  a  man  of  another  age, 
with  obsolete  opinions,  which  he  produced  like  the  un- 
conscious bearer  of  uncurrent  coin. 

Here  is  a  little  specimen  of  his  talk,  the  subject  being 
that  of  dreams  and  revelations  :  "  What  is  to  happen,  that 
God  alone  can  know.  But  that  which  is  already  hap- 
pening, or  which  has  happened  at  a  distance,  this  the 
detnonio  may  know  and  reveal.  And  he  will  reveal  it 
to  you  in  a  dream,  or  in  a  vision,  or  by  a  presentiment." 

"■  But  what  does  the  demoiiio  get,  Pere  Michel,  for  the 
trouble  of  revealing  it  to  us?" 

"The  satisfaction  of  making  men  superstitious?" 

Noii  c'e  male,  Pere  Alickcl.  And  what,  thought  I,  is 
the  chief  advantage  of  being  pope,  cardinal,  arch-priest, 
confessor?  The  satisfaction  of  making  men  supersti- 
tious. At  another  time  I  remarked  upon  the  fact  that 
the  monasteries  in  Greece  are  usually  situated  at  some 
height  on  a  mountain  side.  "  They  are  of  the  order  of 
St.  Basil,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  he  always  loved  the  re- 


252         FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 

tircmcnt  of  the  mountains,  and  his  followers  imitate  him 
in  this."  Pcrc  T^Iichcl  had  a  pleasant  smile,  with  just 
enough  of  second  childliood  to  be  guileless,  not  foolish. 
And  I  may  here  say  tliat  the  Armenian  priestliood  ap- 
pear to  me  to  have  quite  an  individuality  of  their  own, 
corresponding  to  no  order  of  the  Romish  priesthood 
with  which  I  am  acquainted. 

The  excessive  heat  of  the  cabins  and  after  deck  one 
day  induced  me  to  head  a  valorous  invasion  of  the  for- 
ward deck,  followed  by  as  many  of  the  sisterhood  as  I 
was  able  to  recruit.  The  steamer  being  a  very  long 
one,  we  had  to  make  quite  a  journey  before  we  entered 
that  almost  interdicted  region,  crossing  a  long  bridge, 
and  passing  the  captain's  sacred  office.  We  carried 
books  and  work  ;  o\xx  fauteuils  followed  us.  And  here 
we  found  cool  breezes  and  delicious  shade.  The  sail- 
ors and  deck  passengers  lay  in  heaps  about  the  boards, 
taking  their  noonda}'  nap  in  a  very  primitive  manner. 
We  profited  by  this  discovery  so  far  as  to  repeat  the 
invasion  daily  while  the  voyage  lasted. 

But  it  came  to  end  sooner  than  one  might  suppose 
from  this  long  description.  We  had  left  Syra  on  Sun- 
day night ;  on  Thursday  afternoon  we  landed  in  Trieste. 
Farewell,  Turco-Italians,  Austro-Italians,  Siebcn  Ge- 
birgcrs,  Transylvanians,  Dalmatians,  ladies,  babies, 
priests,  and  all.  When  shall  we  meet  again?  Scarcely 
before  that  great  and  final  analysis  which  promises  to 
distinguish,  once  for  all,  the  sheep  from  the  goats.  And 
even  for  that  supreme  consummation  and  its  results, 
all  of  you  may  command  my  best  wishes. 


fragments.  253 

Fragments. 

Up  to  the  point  last  reached,  my  jotthigs  down  had 
been  made  with  tolerable  regularity.  Living  is  so  much 
more  rapid  than  writing,  that  an  impossible  babe,  who 
should  begin  his  diary  at  his  birth,  would  be  sure  to 
have  large  arrears  between  that  period  and  the  day  of 
his  death,  however  indefatigable  he  might  be  in  his 
recording.  A  man  cannot  live  his  life  and  write  it  too  ; 
hence  the  work  that  men  who  live  much  leave  to  their 
biographers.  So,  of  the  space  that  here  intervened  be- 
tween Trieste  and  Paris,  I  lived  the  maximum  and  wrote 
the  minimum  ;  that  is,  the  little  death's-head  and  cross- 
bone  mementos  with  which  the  diary  is  forced  to  record 
the  spot  at  which  each  day  fell  and  lay,  together  with 
the  current  expenses  of  its  interment.  In  some  places 
even  these  are  wanting,  and  tlie  stricken  soul,  looking 
over  the  diary,  cries  out,  "  O,  my  leanness  !  "  or  words 
to  that  effect.  Yet  the  poor  document  referred  to  shall 
help  us  what  it  can,  beginning  with  the  return  from 
cheap,  cosy  Trieste  to  that  polished  jewel  of  the  Adri- 
atic, which  now  shines  doubly  in  its  new  setting  of 
liberty. 

We  went,  as  we  came,  in  the  Lloyd  steamer,  declining, 
however,  to  engage  a  state-room,  mindful  of  the  exceed- 
ing closeness  of  that  in  which  we  suffered  on  our  out- 
ward voyage.  The  embarkation  was  made,  like  that 
from  Venice,  at  the  mysterious  hour  of  midnight;  and 
we,  coming  on  board  at  half  past  ten,  secured  such  sofa 
and  easy-chair  privileges  as  moved  the  wrath  of  a  high- 


254  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

talking  Gcriuan  party  who  came  at  the  last  moment,  and 
shoutecl  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  assertion  that  his 
Damen  were  fully  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  any  other 
Damcn  on  board  the  steamer,  and  that  if  the  other  Da- 
men  had  places,  his  surely  ought  much  more  to  have 
them.  The  "cameriere  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  we  failed  to  be  convinced  that  our  (ust  duty  would 
be  to  vacate  our  limited  accommodations,  and  stand  at 
large  for  the  benefit  of  these  or  any  other  virgins  of  the 
tardy  and  oily  description.  The  blatant  champion 
thereon  took  himself  and  his  Damen  up  stairs.  We 
reserved  to  ourselves  the  good  intention  of  sharing  our 
advantages  with  them  at  a  later  period,  when  the  pas- 
sage of  the  present  acerbity  should  make  intercourse 
possible.  The  cabin  soon  became  insutVerably  hot  and 
close.  After  various  ineirectual  attempts  at  repose,  in 
a  cramped  position  on  the  sofa,  with  a  shawl  bundle  for 
a  i^illow,  I  went  on  deck,  where  I  at  least  found  fresh 
air  and  darkness,  the  blazing  lamp  in  the  cabin  being 
enough,  of  itself,  to  banish  sleep.  Every  available  spot 
here  was  occupied  by  groups  or  single  figures,  whose 
tout  enscTublc^  what  with  the  darkness  and  their  drap- 
ing, constituted  a  very  respectable  gallery  of  figures, 
much  resembling  the  conspirators  in  Ernani,  or  IMme. 
Tussaud's  Chamber  of  Horrors,  in  the  absence  of  the 
illuminating  medium.  I  unconsciously  seated  myself 
on  one  sleeping  figure,  which  kicked  and  cried,  O ! 
With  difficulty  I  found  a  narrow  vacancy  on  one  of  the 
side  benches,  after  occupation  of  which  I  wrapped  my 
bliawl  about  inc,  and  ^avc  up  to  the  situation. 
"  Tor  we  were  tired,  niv  back  and  I."' 


FRAGMENTS.  255 

Seasick  women  sobbed  and  gasped  around  me,  not 
having,  as  we,  graduated  in  the  great  college  of  ocean 
passage.  The  night  was  very  black.  Presently  a  form 
nestled  at  my  right.  It  was  the  elder  neophyte,  dis- 
gusted with  the  cabin,  and  willing  to  be  anywhere  else. 
The  moon  rose  late,  a  de-crescent.  The  whole  time 
was  amphibious,  neither  sleeping  nor  waking,  neither 
day  nor  night.  Suddenly,  a  perceptible  chill  seized 
upon  us ;  a  little  later  the  black  sky  grew  gray,  and  the 
series  of  groups  that  filled  the  deck  were  all  revealed, 
like  hidden  motives  in  the  light  of  some  new  doctrine. 
The  sunrise  was  show^ery,  and  attended  by  a  rainbow. 
The  people  bestirred  themselves,  stretched  their  be- 
numbed limbs,  and  shook  their  tumbled  garments  into 
shape.  Black  coflee  could  now  be  had  for  ten  sous  a 
cup,  and  cafe  au  lait  for  twenty,  with  a  crust  of  bread 
which  defied  gnawing.  The  diary  says,  "  L.  and  I 
grew  quite  tearful  as  we  saw  beautiful  Venice  come  out 
of  the  water,  just  as  we  had  seen  her  disappear.  At  the 
health  station  we  were  fumigated  with  chloride  of  lime 
—  an  unpleasant  and  useless  process.  We  arrived  op- 
posite the  Piazzetta  at  half  past  seven  A.  M.  The  cap- 
tain was  kind  in  helping  us  to  find  our  effects  and  to 
get  off'.  The  gondoliers  asked  five  francs  for  bringing 
us  to  our  lodgings,  and  got  them.  The  Barbiers  could 
not  receive  us  at  our  former  snug  abode,  but  monsieur 
went  round  to  show  us  some  rooms  in  Palazzo  Gam- 
baro,  which  he  offered  for  seven  francs  per  diem.  We 
were  glad  to  take  them.  Went  to  Florian's  cafe  for 
breakfast,  visited   San  Marco,   and  then  proceeded   to 


256  FROM    THE    OAK   TO    TIIK    OLIVE. 

install  ourselves  in  our  new  lodging.  Ordered  a  dinner 
for  six  francs,  which  proved  abundant.  Took  a  long 
sleep,  —  from  one  to  four  P.  M.,  —  having  only  dozed  a 
little  during  the  night.  Our  lodgings  are  very  roomy 
and  pleasant  —  two  large  rooms  well  furnished,  and 
two  smaller  ones.  We  expect  to  enjoy  many  things 
here,  and  all  the  more  because  we  now  know  something 
of  what  is  to  be  seen." 

This  expectation  was  fully  realized  during  the  week 
that  followed,  although  the  meagre  entries  of  the  diary 
give  little  assistance  in  recalling  the  strict  outlines  of 
the  brilliant  picture.  It  was  now  height  of  season  in 
Venice.  The  grand  canal  was  brilliant,  every  evening, 
with  gondolas,  and  gondoliers  in  costumes.  Now  we 
admired  full  suits  of  white,  with  scarlet  sashes,  trimmed 
with  gold  fringe,  now  gray  and  blue,  edged  with  silver. 
Now  an  ugl}'  jockey  costume,  got  up  by  some  Anglo- 
maniac,  insulted  the  Italian  beau-ideal,  and,  indeed, 
every  other.  For  the  short  coat  and  heavy  clothes, 
suited  at  once  to  the  saddle  and  the  English  climate, 
were  utterly  unsuited  to  the  action  of  rowing,  as  well 
as  to  the  full  bloom  of  an  Italian  summer.  I  cannot 
help  remarking  upon  this  unsigiitly  livery,  because  it 
was  an  eyesore,  and  because  it  was  obviously  considered 
by  its  proprietor  as  a  brilliant  success.  In  stylish  gon- 
dolas, the  rowers  are  two  in  nunibcM-,  and  always  dressed 
in  livery.  The  fashionables,  in  iieight  of  millinery  bliss, 
float  up  and  down  the  grand  canal,  until  it  is  time  for 
the  rendezvous  on  the  Piazza.  As  you  pass  the  palaces, 
you  often  see  the  gonilola   in  waiting  below,  while  in  a 


FRAGMENTS.  257 

balcony  or  arched  window  above,  the  fresh,  smiling 
faces  make  their  bright  picture  ;  and  the  domestic  stands 
draped  in  the  white  opera-cloaks  or  bournooses.  And  I 
remember  a  hundred  little  nonsensical  songs  about  this 
very  passage  in  Venetian  life. 

"  Prent'e  la  gondoletta, 

Tutt'e  Serena  il  mar, 

Ninetta,  mia  diletta, 

Vieni  solcar  il  mar 

II  marinar,  che  gioja^che  gioja  il  marinar!" 

Which  I  translate  into  English  equivalency  as  follows  :  — 

The  two-in-hand  is  waiting, 

The  groom  is  in  his  boots ; 
The  lover's  fondlj'  prating, 

The  lady's  humor  suits  : 
Susanna!  Susanna! 

What  joy  to  flog  the  brutes  ! 
What  joy,  what  joy  in  driving! 
What  joy,  what  joj  to  drive! 

Like  all  other  poetical  visions,  these,  once  seen,  speedily 
become  matters  of  course.  Still,  we  found  always  a 
fairy  element  in  the  '•'•  Gita  in  gondoletta^  Our  gon- 
dolier had  always  a  weird  charm  in  our  eyes.  He 
seemed  almost  a  feudal  retainer,  a  servant  for  life  or 
death.  His  shrewd  glance  showed  that  he  was  not 
easily  to  be  astonished.  He  could  tip  over  an  obnox- 
ious person  in  the  dark,  stab  at  a  street  corner,  carry  the 
most  audacious  of  letters,  and  deliver  the  contraband 
answer  under  the  very  nose  of  high-snuffing  authority. 
17 


258  FUOM    TlIK    OAK    TO    THli    OLIVK. 

Nought  of  all  this  did  vvc  desire  of  him  ;  in  fact,  noth- 
ing but  safe  conduct  and  moderate  charges.  Yet  we 
admired  his  mysterious  talents,  and  wondered  in  what 
unwritten  novels  he  might  have  figured.  For,  indeed, 
the  watery  streets  of  Venice,  no  less  than  her  gondoliers, 
suggest  the  idea  of  romantic  and  desperate  adventure. 
What  balconies  from  which  to  throw  a  rival,  dead  or 
alive  !  What  silent,  know-nothing  waters  to  receive 
him  !     What  clever  assistants  to  aid  and  abet ! 

But  enough  of  the  evening  row,  which  ends  at  tlie 
Piazzetta.  Here  you  dismiss  your  man-at-oars,  naming 
the  hour  at  which  you  shall  require  his  j^resencc,  he 
being  meanwhile  at  libeity  to  sleep  in  his  gondola,  or 
to  leave  it  in  charge  with  a  friend,  and  to  follow  you  to 
the  Piazza,  where  you  will  amuse  yourself  after  your 
fashion,  he  after  his.  Here  tlie  banners  are  floating, 
the  lights  glancing,  the  band  stormily  performing.  Flo- 
rian's  cafe  is  represented  by  a  crowd  of  well-dressed 
people  sitting  in  the  open  air,  with  the  appliances  of 
chair  aiul  table  covered  by  tlieir  voluminous  draperies. 
If  you  arrive  late,  you  may  wait  some  time  before  a 
table,  fourteen  inches  by  ten,  is  vouchsafed  to  you. 
Ices  are  very  good,  very  cheap,  and  very  small.  'J'ea 
and  bread  and  butter  arc  excellent.  W'hile  you  wait 
and  while  you  feast,  a  succession  of  venders  endeavor 
to  impose  upon  you  every  small  article  which  the  streets 
of  Venice  show  for  sale.  Shoes,  slippeis,  alabaster 
work,  shell  work,  tin  gondolas  concealing  inkstands, 
nets,  bracelets,  necklaces,  —  all  these  things  are  oflered 
to   vou   in  succession,  together  with   allumettes,  cigars, 


FRAGMENTS.  259 

journals,  and  caramels,  or  candied  fruits  strung  upon 
straws.  If  you  are  mild  in  your  discouragement  of 
these  venders,  they  will  fasten  upon  you  like  other 
vermin,  and  refuse  to  dej^art  until  they  shall  have  drawn 
the  last  drop  of  your  change.  I  found  a  brisk  charge 
necessary,  with  appeals  to  Florian's  £'arfou,  after  whose 
interference,  life  on  the  Piazza  became  practicable. 

To  the  mere  enjoyment  of  good  victuals,  with  squab- 
bles intervening,  may  be  superadded  the  perception  of 
fashionable  life,  as  it  goes  on  in  these  regions.  When 
your  eyes  have  taken  the  standard  of  light  of  the  Piazza, 
you  recognize  in  some  of  the  groups  about  you  persons 
whom  you  have  seen,  either  in  the  balcony  or  in  the 
gondola.  Here  are  two  young  women  whom  I  saw 
emerge  from  a  narrow  passage,  this  evening,  rowed  by 
a  fine-looking  servant,  who  stood  bareheaded,  and  one 
other.  They  have  diamond  earrings,  fashionable  bon- 
nets, and  dresses  dripping  from  a  baptism  of  beads. 
One  by  one  a  group  of  young  men,  pi^obably  of  the 
first  water,  forms  about  them.  One  of  the  ladies  is 
handsome  and  quiet,  the  other  plain  and  voluble.  The 
latter  becomes  perforce  the  prominent  figure  in  what 
goes  on,  which  indeed  amounts  to  nothing  worth  repeat- 
ing. These  were  on  my  right.  On  my  left  soon  ap- 
peared a  lady  of  a  certain  age,  with  "  world  "  written 
in  large  letters  all  over  her  countenance.  She  chape- 
rons a  daughter,  got  up  with  hair  a  I'Ang'laise,  whose 
joantomimic  countenance  suggests  that  she  has  been 
drilled  by  an  English  governess  with  papa^  prufzes^ 
prisin^  or  some  equivalent  gymnastic.    When  addressed, 


zGo  FUOM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

she  looks  down  into  her  fan,  and  rolls  her  eyes  as  if  she 
saw  her  face  in  it.  And  lady  fricmls  come  up  :  "  Ah, 
niarchesa  !  ah,  signora  contessa  1 "  and  the  young  bloods, 
hat  in  hand.  So  here  we  are,  really,  on  the  borders  of 
high  life,  without  intending  it.  And  the  baroness  intro- 
duces a  female  relative  —  ?(fui  sorclla  maritaia  —  who 
has  been  handsome,  and  whose  smile  seems  accustomed 
to  fold  the  cloak  of  her  beauty  around  the  poverty  of 
her  character.  And  there  is  collee,  and  there  come 
ices.  The  ladies  sip  and  gossip,  the  beaux  come  and 
go,  talking  of  intended  villcggiaturas ;  for  the  greatest 
social  illustration  for  an  Italian  is  that  of  travel.  A 
third  group  immediately  in  front  of  us  shows  a  young 
lady  in  an  advanced  stage  of  ambition,  attired  in  a 
conspicuous  tone,  accompanied  by  quieter  female  rela- 
tives and  a  young  boy.  She  regards  with  envious  eyes 
the  two  popular  associations  on  my  right  and  left.  She 
is  dying  to  be  noticed,  and  does  not  know  how  to  man- 
age it.  And  while  1  take  note  of  these  and  other  vani- 
ties, beggars  whine  for  pence,  or  insist  upon  carrying 
oft'  our  superfluous  bread  or  cake,  for  which,  indeed,  we 
must  pay  ;  but  they  eat  the  bread  before  your  eyes  with 
such  evident  relish  that  you  are  satisfied. 

By  and  by  this  palls  upon  you.  You  have  seen  and 
heard  enough.  The  society  to  which  you  belong  is  over 
the  water.  Here  your  heart  finds  no  place  ;  and  from 
the  crowd  of  strangers  even  your  lodging  and  quiet  bed 
seem  a  refuge.  So  you  settle  with  Florian's  gar(;on^ 
close  your  account  with  all  beggars  for  the  night,  wan- 
der to  the  Pia/.zetta,  and  cry,  "  Bastiano  !  "   and  he  of 


FRAGMENTS. 


261 


the  mysterious  intelligence  sooner  or  later  responds. 
You  give  a  penny  to  the  crab,  —  the  man  who  super- 
fluously holds  the  boat  while  you  get  in,  —  and  are  at 
home  after  a  brief  dream  of  smooth  motion  under  a 
starry  sky.  And  in  this  way  end  all  midsummer  days 
in  Venice.  Not  so  smooth,  however,  is  your  climbing 
of  three  flights  of  stone  stairs  in  the  dark,  with  thump- 
ing and  bumping.  But  you  are  up  at  last,  and  Gianet- 
ta  —  the  shrewd  maid  —  receives  you  with  a  candle-end. 
Frugal  orders  for  breakfast,  and  to  rest,  with  the  cherubs 
of  the  mantel-piece  watching  over  you. 

For  over  the  said  mantel-piece,  two  fair,  fat  babes, 
modelled  in  flat-relief,  playfully  contended  for  the  mas- 
tery, their  laughing  foces  near  together,  their  swinging 
heels  wide  apart,  as  the  festoon  required.  Elsewhere 
in  the  same  relief  were  arabesques  with  birds  and  flow- 
ers. This  bedroom  of  ours  has  been  a  room  of  state  in 
its  day.  A  passage-way  and  dressing-room  have  been 
taken  from  its  stately  proportions,  and  still  it  remains 
very  spacious  for  our  pretensions.  Our  salon  is  larger 
still,  and  largely  mirrored.  Two  of  its  windows  give 
upon  a  leafy  garden,  whose  tree-tops  lie  nearer  to  us 
than  to  their  owners.  Its  furniture  has  been  hastily 
thrown  together,  and  is  mostly  composed  of  odds  and 
ends.  But  one  of  its  pieces  moves  our  admiration.  It 
is  a  toilet  table,  enclosing  a  comjolcte  set  of  utensils  in 
the  finest  Venetian  glass  —  basins,  ewers,  toilet  bottles 
and  glasses,  and  the  little  boxes  for  soap  and  powder, 
all  cut  after  the  finest  pattern.  This  toilet  was  made 
for  a   loyal  j^ersonage,  a  queen    of  something,  whose 


263  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

cfVccts  somehow  seem  to  have  been  soUl  at  auction  in 
these  parts.  Another  rcHc  of  her  we  chscover  in  a 
bureau  entirely  incrusted  witli  mother-of-pearl,  an  arti- 
cle that  makes  one's  mouth  water,  if  one  has  any  mouth, 
which  all  men,  like  all  horses,  have  not.  The  doors 
which  divide  our  sitting  from  our  sleeping  room  are  at 
once  objects  of  wonder  and  of  fear  to  us.  Their  size 
is  monstrous,  and  each  of  them  hangs,  or  rather  clings, 
by  the  upper  hinge,  the  lower  being  dismounted.  These 
doors  arc  left  all  day  at  a  conciliatory  angle  between 
closing  and  opening.  We  fear  their  falling  on  our 
heads  whenever  we  approach  them.  We  hear  vaguely 
of  some  one  who  shall  come  to  put  them  in  order  ;  but 
he  never  appears.  Our  own  veteran,  arriving  at  last, 
sets  this  right  in  as  summary  a  manner  as  he  has  dealt 
with  otlicr  nuisances.  For  the  veteran,  worn  with 
travel,  does  arrive  from  Greece  one  morning,  rowing 
up  to  our  palace  just  as  we  have  stepped  from  it  to 
meet  our  gondola.  He  has  a  tale  to  tell  like  the  wan- 
derings of  Ulysses.  But  between  tliis  event  and  those 
that  precede  it,  tlic  diary  shows  the  following  important 
entry  :  — 

Thursday,  Aug.  i.  —  To  Walamocco  this  A.  M., 
with  three  rowers  —  our  own,  and  two  others,  who  re- 
ceived one  florin  between  them.  The  row,  both  in 
going  and  returning,  was  delightful.  Arrived  at  Mala- 
mocco,  the  men  demanded  one  franc  for  breakfast,  and 
disappeared  within  the  shades  of  the  Osteria.  This  is 
a  small  settlement  at  the  very  entrance  of  the  lagoons. 
It  was  strongh'   fortilled   by  the  Austrians.     The  heat, 


FRAGMENTS.  263 

however,  did  not  permit  us  to  inspect  the  fortifications. 
We  saw  little  of  interest,  but  visited  the  church  and  a 
peasant's  house.  One  of  tlie  daughters  was  engaged 
in  stringing  beads  for  sale.  The  beads  w^ere  in  a  tray, 
and  she  plunged  into  them  a  bunch  of  wire  needles 
some  six  inches  in  length,  each  carrying  its  slender 
thread.  The  merchant,  she  said,  came  weekly  to 
bring  the  beads,  and  to  take  away  those  ready  strung 
for  the  market.  "  To  earn  a  penny,  signora,"  said  the 
mother,  a  substantial-looking  person,  wearing  large 
gold  earrings.  The  houses  here  looked  very  comfort- 
able for  people  of  the  plain  sort.  The  men  seemed  to 
be  mostly  away,  whether  engaged  in  fishing,  or  follow- 
ing the  sea  to  foreign  parts.  On  our  way  back  we 
stopped  at  San  Clementi,  an  ancient  church  upon  a 
little  island,  now  undergoing  repairs.  Within  the 
church  we  found  a  marble  tabernacle  with  solid  walls, 
built  behind  the  high  altar.  It  may  have  been  forty 
feet  in  length  by  twenty  in  breadth,  and  twelve  or  more 
feet  in  height.  A  massive  door  of  bronze  gave  entrance 
to  this  huge  strong-box,  which  was  formerly  used  as  a 
prison  for  refractory  priests.  We  found  the  interior 
divided  into  two  compartments.  The  larger  of  these 
was  fitted  up  as  a  chapel ;  the  smaller  had  served  as  the 
cell  of  confinement.  The  altar  was  erected  at  the  parti- 
tion which  separated  the  two,  and  a  grating  inserted 
behind  the  altar  figure  allowed  the  prisoner  the  benefit 
of  the  religious  services  carried  on  in  the  chapel.  The 
dreariness  of  this  little  prison  can  scarcely  be  described. 
No  light  had  it,  unless  that  of  a  lamp  was  allowed.     A 


364  FROM    TIIK    OAK    TO    TIIK    OLIVE. 

church  Nvitlun  a  church,  and  withha  the  inner  church  a 
place  of  torment !  Tliis  arrangement  seemed  to  viohite 
even  the  CathoHc  hiimunity  of  sanctuary.  Think  of  the 
unfortunate  shut  up  within  on  a  feast  day,  wlien  faint 
sounds  of  outward  jubilee  might  penetrate  the  marble 
walls,  and  heighten  his  pain  by  its  contrast  with  the 
general  joyous  thrill  of  life.  Think  of  the  cheerless 
mass  or  vespers  vouchsafed  to  him,  —  no  friendly  face, 
no  brother  voice,  to  sweeten  worship.  And  if  he  con- 
tinued recalcitrant,  how  convenient  was  this  isolation 
for  the  final  disposition  to  be  made  of  him  !  De  pro- 
ficndis  clamavit^  doubtless,  and  the  church  did  not 
know  that  God  could  hear  him. 

The  diary  does  not  record  our  second  visit  to  the 
Armenian  convent,  which  took  place  in  these  days.  I 
do  not  even  find  in  its  irregular  columns  any  mention 
of  a  franc  which  I  am  sure  I  paid  to  the  porter,  and 
which,  I  faintly  hope,  has  been  put  to  my  credit  else- 
where. Despite  this  absence  of  pieces  justijicatives^ 
the  visit  still  remains  so  freshly  in  my  memory  that  I 
may  venture  to  speak  of  it.  The  elder  neophyte  not 
having  been  with  us  before  in  Venice,  the  convent  was 
new  ground  to  her.  \Vc  \\  lio  liad  already  seen  it  felt 
mucli  more  at  home  on  the  occasion  of  our  second  visit 
than  of  our  first.  For  Pailre  (Jiacomo  had  answered  our 
invasion  by  a  friciidl}'  call  ;  -awiX  did  we  not  now  know 
him  to  be  a  most  genial  and  hospitable  person?  Had 
we  not,  moreover,  made  ourselves  familiar  with  his 
religion,  on  our  late  voyage,  by  frequent  converse  with 
two  priests  of  his  profession?     Did  I  not  possess  Fathei 


FRAGMENTS.  265 

Michel's  views  concerning  the  deinonio^  as  well  as  his 
version  of  the  Book  of  Job?  And  of  Pere  Isaak  did  I 
not  know  the  polished,  uncommunicative  side  which 
covered  his  intimate  convictions,  whatever  they  may 
have  been  ?  The  Armenian  ladies,  too,  —  had  they  not 
made  me  free  of  the  guild?  One  of  them  had  shown 
me  her  prayer-book.  The  other,  being  but  fifteen  years 
of  age,  had  no  prayer-book.  So,  with  an  assured  step, 
we  entered  the  sacred  parlor,  and  demanded  news  of 
Padre  Giacomo,  and  of  his  monkey.  And  the  father 
came,  smiling  a  little  better  than  before,  but  with  a 
sweet  Oriental  gravity.  And  he  showed  us  again  the 
library,  and  hall,  and  chapel,  with  the  refectory,  from 
whose  cruel  pulpit  one  brother  is  set  to  read  while 
the  others  feast.  We  saw  again  the  printing  presses, 
worked  by  hand.  And  in  the  sacrist}^  he  commanded 
two  of  the  younger  brethren  to  bring  the  chiefest  em- 
broidered garments,  reserved  for  high  occasions,  judg- 
ing of  us  unjustly  by  our  sex.  And  these  satin  and 
velvet  wondei's  were,  indeed,  embossed  with  lambs,  and 
birds,  and  flowers,  in  needlework  of  silver  and  gold, 
and  of  various  colors,  meet  for  the  necks  of  them  that 
divide  the  spoil.  And  we  saw  also  a  very  fine  mummy, 
as  black,  and  dried,  and  wizened,  as  any  old  Pharaoh 
could  be.  A  splendid  bead  covering  lay  over  him,  in 
open  rows  of  blue  and  white,  with  hieroglyphic-looking 
men  in  black  and  yellow.  This  covering  h.ad  been 
lately  cleaned  and  repaired  at  the  glass-works  of  Mu- 
rano,  as  Padre  Giacomo  recounted  with  pride.  He 
showed  us  in  the  old  part  of  the   work  some  curious 


266  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

double  beads,  which  Venice  itself,  he  said,  was  unable 
to  imitate.  The  colors  were  as  fresh  and  clear  as  if  the 
mummy  had  clothed  himself  from  the  last  fancy  fair, 
with  a  description  of  afghan  well  suited  to  the  Egyptian 
climate. 

Having  done  justice  to  this  human  preserve,  the 
padre  now  regaled  us  with  a  preparation  of  rose 
leaves  embalmed  in  sugar.  He  also  bestowed  upon 
us  one  of  the  convent  publications,  a  tolerable  copy  of 
verses  composed  on  the  spot  itself  by  the  late  Louis  of 
Bavaria,  celebrating  its  calm  and  retirement.  I  myself 
could  have  responded  to  the  royal  suspiria  with  one 
distich. 

"  Here  no  people  comes  to  beg  thee, 
Here  no  Lola  comes  to  plague  thee." 

As  we  passed  from  the  building  to  the  garden,  the 
wicked  monkey,  chained  and  lying  in  wait,  sprang  at 
my  hat,  and,  snatching  my  lilac  veil,  bore  it  ofl'  with 
a  flying  leap  of  animal  grace  and  malice.  Padre 
Giacomo  anxiously  apologized  for  his  pet's  misconduct, 
which  was  certainly  surprising.  But  the  monkey's  edu- 
cation, as  every  one  knows,  is  dependent,  not  upon 
precept,  but  upon  example,  and  Padre  Giacomo's  ex- 
ample, to  the  monkey,  was  only  a  negative.  We 
parted  from  our  cloistered  friend,  sincerely  desiring, 
if  not  hoping,  to  see  him  again. 

Of  our  last  day  in  fairest  Venice  the  diary  gives  this 
meagre  account :  — 

Sunday,  August  4.  Early  to  Piazza,  where  we 
encountered    the    Bisliop    of   Rhode    Island.       At    San 


FRAGMENTS.  267 

Marco's,  visited  Luccati's  beautiful  mosaics  in  the  sac- 
risty. The  three  figures  over  the  door  are  especially 
fine  —  Madonna  in  the  middle,  and  a  saint  on  either 
side.  A  colossal  cross  adorns  the  ceiling,  and  the  wall 
on  one  side  is  occupied  by  figures  of  twelve  proph- 
ets ;  on  the  other,  by  the  twelve  disciples.  The  cross 
almost  seems  to  bloom  with  beautiful  devices.  Luccati 
was  imprisoned,  they  say,  in  the  Piombi. 

To  the  Italian  Protestant  service,  held  in  a  good  hall 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Church  of  San  Giovanni  e 
Paolo.  The  hall  was  densely  crowded.  I  found  no 
seat,  and  barely  room  to  stand.  The  audience  seemed 
a  mixed  one,  so  far  as  worldly  position  goes,  but  was 
entirely  respectable  in  aspect  and  demeanor,  the  mascu- 
line element  largely  predominating.  Signor  Comba,  a 
young  man,  is  quite  eloquent  and  taking.  He  delivers 
himself  clearly,  and  with  energy.  He  criticised  at  some 
length  the  unchristian  doctrines  of  the  Romisli  church 
—  this  is  part  of  his  work. 

The  service  ended,  I  passed  into  the  Church  of  San 
Giovanni  e  Paolo,  and  enjoyed  my  visit  unusually. 
The  vivid  light  of  the  day  and  hour  made  many  of 
the  monuments  appear  new  to  me.  The  doges  in  this, 
as  in  other  churches,  are  stowed  away  on  shelves,  like 
mummies.  Found  a  monument  to  Doge  Sterno,  dated 
early  in  the  fifteenth  century,  and  beside  it  the  elfigy  of  a 
youth  designated  as  Aloysius  Trevisano,  tet.  23,  deeply  re- 
gretted, and  commemorated  for  his  attainments  in  Greek, 
Latin,  and  philosophy.  The  figure  is  recumbent,  the  face 
of  a  high  and  refined  character,  with  the  unmistakable 


26S  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

chariii  of  youth  impressed  upon  it.  The  date  is  also  of 
the  fifteen  ccnturv.  From  the  church  to  the  sacristy,  to 
take  a  hist  look  at  the  two  pictures,  Titian's  Death  of 
St.  Peter,  martyr,  and  a  fine  Madonna  of  Gian  Bellini. 
The  Titian  was  sjlorious  to-day.  It  has  great  life  and 
action.  The  Dominican  in  the  foreground,  who  has  his 
arm  raised  as  if  appealing  to  heaven  and  eartii  against 
the  barharous  act,  seems  to  have  communicated  a  touch 
of  his  passion  to  the  two  cherubs  above,  who  bear  the 
martyr  palm.  They  arc  stormy  little  cherubs,  and 
seem  in  haste  to  bring  in  sight  the  recompense  of  so 
much  suflering. 

Of  the  Protestant  preaching  I  will  once  more  anil 
finally  say,  that  it  is  a  genuine  missionary  work,  and 
commend  it  to  tlie  good  wishes  and  good  ofiiccs  of 
those  whose  benefactions  do  not  fear  to  cross  the  ocean. 
May  it  permanently  thrive  and  prosper. 

Of  the  pictures  I  can  only  say,  that  I  doubly  congrat- 
ulate myself  on  having  paid  them  my  last  homage  before 
leaving  Titian's  lovely  city.  For,  not  long  after,  a  cruel 
fire  broke  out  in  or  near  that  sacristy,  precious  with 
carvings  in  wood  and  marble  bas-reliefs;  and  all  the 
treasures  were  destroyed,  including  the  two  pictures, 
only  temporarilv  Ijestowed  there,  and  many  s(juarc 
yards  of  multitude  by  Tintoretto,  bearing,  as  usual, 
his  own  portrait  in  a  sly  corner,  representative,  no 
doubt,  of  iiis  wish  to  watch  the  ellect  of  his  master- 
pieces upon  humanity  at  large.  The  Madonna  by 
Bellini  was  a  charming  picture,  but  the  St.  Peter  is 
a  loss  that  concerns  the  world.     The  saint,  one  hopes, 


FRAGMENTS.  269 

has  been  comfortable  in  Paradise  these  many  years. 
But  the  artist?  What  Paradise  would  console  him  for 
the  burning  of  one  of  his  chefs-d'oeuvre?  He  would  be 
like  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children,  which  reminds 
me  that  ideal  parentage  is  of  no  sex.  The  artist,  the 
poet,  the  reformer,  are  father  and  mother,  all  in  one. 

We  left  Venice,  the  diary  tells  me,  on  the  5th  of 
August,  with  what  regret  we  need  not  say.  The  same 
venerable  authority  records  a  grave  disagreement  with 
the  custom-house  officers,  of  whose  ministrations  we 
had  received  no  previous  warning.  So,  two  very  mod- 
est pieces  of  dress  goods,  delayed  in  the  making,  caused 
me  to  be  branded  as  a  contrabandlsta^  with  a  fine,  and 
record  to  my  discredit.  I  confess  to  some  indecorous 
manifestations  of  displeasure  at  these  circumstances. 
The  truth  is,  forewarned  is  forearmed.  Venice  is  a 
free  port,  and  the  traveller  who  leaves  her  by  railroad 
for  the  first  time  may  not  be  aware  of  the  strict  account 
to  which  he  will  be  held  for  every  little  indulgence  in 
Venetian  traffic.  Now,  to  have  the  spoons  presented 
to  you  in  the  house,  and  to  be  arrested  as  a  thief  when 
you  would  pass  the  door,  is  a  grievous  ending  to  a  hos- 
pitable beginning.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  I  anathema- 
tized beautiful  Venice  as  I  departed,  gathering  up  the 
broken  fragments  of  my  peace,  past  diamond  cement. 
But  here,  in  trunk-upsetting  Boston,  I  betiiink  me.  and 
confess.  I  was  wrong,  utterly  wrong,  O  custom-house 
officers,  when  I  frowned  and  stormed  at  you,  contend- 
ing inch  by  inch  and  phrase  by  phrase.  You  were 
neither  unjust  nor  uncivil,  although  I  was  both.     Only 


270  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

1  Still  attest  and  obseciate  to  the  fact  that  I  did  not 
intend  to  smuggle,  and  entered  }our  jealous  domain 
witli  no  sense  of  contraband  about  me.  Yet  to  such 
wrath  did  your  perquisitions  bring  me,  that  the  angry 
thoughts  slackened  only  at  Verona,  where  the  tombs  of 
the  Scaligcrs  and  the  rounds  of  the  amphitheatre  com- 
pelled me  to  quiet  small  distempers  with  great  thoughts. 
At  railroad  speed,  however,  we  visited  these  rare 
monuments.  Can  Grande  and  his  horse  looked  flat 
and  lieavy  from  their  eminence.  We  admiretl  the  beau- 
tiful iron  screen  of  one  of  the  tombs,  hammer-wrought, 
and  flexible  as  a  shirt  of  mail.  And  wc  remembered 
Dante,  paid  two  francs  to  the  guardian  of  the  enclosure, 
and  drove  away.  The  afternoon's  journey  whirled  us 
past  some  strange  antique  towns,  with  walls  and  battle- 
ments, and  at  night  we  were  in  Bolsena,  Germanice 
Bottscn.  And  wlicn  we  asked  the  hotel  maid  if  she 
had  ever  been  in  Verona,  she  replied,  "  O,  no  ;  that  is 
in  Italy."     And  so  we  knew  that  we  were  not. 

Flying  Footsteps. 

The  journey  which  we  now  commenced  was  too 
rapid  to  allow  of  more  than  the  briefest  record  of  its 
route.  The  breathlessness  of  haste,  and  the  number  of 
things  to  be  seen  and  visited,  left  no  time  for  writing  up 
on  the  sul)jects  suggested  by  the  meagre  notes  of  the 
diary.  To  the  latter,  therefore,  I  am  forced  to  betake 
myself,  piecing  its  fragmentary  statements,  where  I  can 
do  so,  from  memory. 

Tuesday,  August  6.      Started  with  vettuiino  for  Inns- 


FLYING    FOOTSTEPS.  2*]! 

pruck,  via    Bronner    pass.     A  splendid    day's   journey. 
Stopped  to  dine  at  a  pretty  village,  — name  forgotten,  —  at 
whose  principal  inn  a  smart,  bustling  maid-servant  in  cos- 
tume, very  clean  and  civil,  came  to  the  carriage,  helped 
us  to  alight,  and  carried  our  travelling  bags  up  stairs  to  a 
parlor  with  a  stout  bed  in  it,  upon  which  our  chief  threw 
himself  and  slept,  until   the   cutlets  were   ready.     This 
old-fashioned    zeal    and    civility  were    pleasant  to  con- 
template once  more,  probably  for  the  last  time.     For  a 
railroad  has  been  built  over  the  Brenner  pass,  the  which 
will    go    into    operation    next  week.     Then    will    these 
pleasant  manners  insensibly  fade  away,  with  the  up-to- 
time  curtness  of  modern  travel.     The  porter  who  helps 
you  to  carry  your  hand  luggage  from  the  car  to  the  de- 
pot will    sternly  demand  his  fee  for  that   laborious   ser- 
vice.    All  officials  will   grow  as   reticent  of  doing  you 
the  smallest  pleasure  as  if  civility  were   a  contraband 
of  war.      And  it  does  indeed  become   so,  for  the  rail- 
road  develops   the   antagonisms  of   trade.     Its  flaming 
sword  allows  of  no  wanderings  in  wayside   Paradises. 
Its   steam   trumpet  shrieks  in  your  ear  the  lesson   that 
the   straight  line   is   the  shortest  distance  between   two 
points.     It  sjvallows  you   at  one  point  and  vomits  you 
at    another,  with    extreme    risk   of  your    life    between. 
And    it  vulgarizes    every  place    that    it    touches.     The 
mixed  stir  and  quiet  of  the   little   town  become  concen- 
trated  into  fixed  crises  of  excitement.     For  the  postil- 
ion's horn  and  whip,  and   the   pleasant  rattling    of  the 
coming  and  going  post-chaise,  you   will   have,  three  or 
four  tiines  in  the  day,  those  shrill   bars  whose   infernal 


272  FROM    Tirn    OAK    TO    THE    OI.IVE. 

symphony  is  mercifully  allowed  to  proceed  no  larthcr ; 
and  a  cross  and  steaming  crowd  ;  and  a  cool  and  su- 
percilious few  in  the  first  or  second  class  wart-saal; 
and  then  a  dull  aiul  dead  quiet  in  tlie  little  town,  as  if 
steam  and  stir  came  and  went  together,  and  left  notliing 
behind  them. 

The  buxom  maid-servant  mourned  over  the  impend- 
ing ruin  of  the  small  tavern  business,  as  she  showed  us 
the  curious  arrangements  of  the  old  house.  It  had  for- 
merly been  a  convent  of  nuns,  and  was  very  solidly 
put  together.  The  back  windows  commanded  a  lovely 
view  of  the  mountains.  In  the  garden  we  found  a 
pleasant  open  house,  no  doubt  formerly  a  place  for  de- 
vout assemblages  and  meditations,  but  now  chiefly  de- 
voted to  the  consumption  of  beer. 

After  dinner  we  walked  to  the  church  near  by,  and 
looked  at  the  curious  iron  crosses  and  small  mural  tab- 
lets which  marked  the  final  resting-place  of  the  village 
worthies.  Their  petty  offices  and  cherished  distinctions 
were  all  preserved  here.  All  of  them  had  received  the 
"  holy  death  sacrament,"  and  had  started  on  the  myste- 
rious voyage  in  good  hope.  Through  this  whole  extent 
of  country,  the  crucifixes  by  tlie  wayside  were  numer- 
ous. Resuming  our  journey,  we  reached  Mittelwald,  a 
picturesque  hamlet,  composed  of  a  small  church,  a 
stream,  a  bridge,  and  a  short  string  of  houses.  Here 
we  defeated  the  future  machinations  of  all  officers  of 
customs,  by  causing  the  two  onending  dress-patterns, 
already  twice  paid  for,  and  treated  at  length  in  various 
printed  and  written  documents,  to  be  cut  into  breadths, 


FLYING     FOOTSTEPS.  273 

which  we  hastily  managed  to  sew  up,  reserving  their 
fuller  treatment  for  the  purlieus  of  civilized  life. 

Our  two  days'  drive  over  the  mountains  was  refresh- 
ing and  most  charming.  Our  vetturino  was  not  less 
despondent  than  the  maid-servant  before  alluded  to.  In 
our  progress  we  were  much  in  sight  of  the  scarcely 
completed  railroad,  vvhose  locomotive  and  working  cars 
constantly  appeared  and  disappeared  before  us,  plunging 
into  the  numerous  tunnels  that  defeat  the  designs  of 
the  mountain  fortresses,  and  mocking  our  slow  progress, 
as  the  money-getting  train  of  success  and  sensation 
mocks  the  tedious  steps  of  learning  and  the  painful 
elaboration  of  art. 

"This  is  my  last  journey,"  said  the  vetturino  ;  "  the 
railway  opens  on  Monday  of  next  week." 

"  What  will  you  do  thereafter?"  I  inquired. 

"  Sell  all  out,  and  go  to  work  as  I  can,"  he  answered  ; 
adding,  however,  "  In  case  you  should  intend  going  as 
far  as  Munich  by  carriage,  I  beg  to  be  honored,"  —  of 
which  the  Yankee  rendering  would  be,  "  I  shouldn't 
mind  putting  you  through." 

This,  however,  was  hardly  to  be  thought  of,  and  at 
Innspruck  we  took  leave  of  this  honest  and  polite  man, 
whose  species  must  soon  become  extinct,  whether  he 
survive  or  no.  Here  recommenced  for  us  the  prosaic 
chapter  of  the  railroad.  Our  route,  however,  for  a 
good  part  of  the  way,  lay  within  sight  of  the  mountains. 
The  depots  at  which  we  took  fiery  breath  were  in  the 
style  of  Swiss  chalets,  quite  ornamental  in  themselves, 
and  further  graced  by  vines  and  flowers.  The  travellers 
18 


274  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

we  encountered  were  not  coniinonplaccly  cosmopolite. 
The  young  women  were  often  in  Tyrolcse  costume, 
wearing  gilt  tassels  on  their  broad,  black  felt  hats.  We 
encountered  parties  of  archers  going  to  attend  shooting 
matches,  attired  in  picturesque  uniforms  of  green  and 
gold.  At  the  depots,  too,  we  encountered  a  new  medi- 
um of  enlivenment.  We  were  now  in  a  land  of  beer, 
and  foaming  glasses  were  oflcred  to  us  in  the  cars,  and 
at  the  railway  bullets.  Mild  and  cheerful  we  found  this 
Bavarian  beverage,  —  less  verse-inspiring  than  wine,  — 
and  valuable  as  tending  to  reduce  the  number  of  poets 
who  tease  the  world  by  putting  all  its  lessons  into 
rhymes,  chimes,  and  jingles.  Whatever  we  ourselves 
may  have  done,  it  is  certain  that  our  companions  of  both 
sexes  embraced  these  frequent  opportunities  of  refresh- 
ment, and  that  the  color  in  their  cheeks  and  the  tone 
of  their  good-natured  laughter  were  heiglitened  by  the 
same.  One  of  these,  a  young  maiden,  told  us  how  she 
had  climbed  the  mountain  during  four  hours  of  the 
day  before,  visiting  the  huts  of  the  cowhenls,  who,  dur- 
ing summer,  pasture  their  cows  high  up  on  the  green 
slopes.  The  existence  of  these  people  she  described 
as  hard  and  solitary  in  the  extreme.  The  rich  butter 
and  cheese  they  make  are  all  for  the  market.  They  them- 
selves cat  only  what  they  cannot  sell,  according  to  the 
rule  whereb}'  small  farmers  live  and  thrive  in  all  lands. 
The  young  girl  wore  in  her  hat  a  bunch  of  the  blossom 
called  cdclicct'ss^  whicii  she  had  brought  from  her  lofty 
wanderings.  It  is  held  in  great  esteem  here,  and  is  of- 
ten olTcred  for  sale. 


MUNICH.  275 

In  the  afternoon  we  turned  our  back  upon  the  moun- 
tains. A  flat  land  lay  before  us,  green  and  well  tilled. 
And  long  before  sunset  we  saw  the  spires  of  Munich, 
and  the  lifted  arm  of  the  great  statue  of  Bavaria.  Our 
arrival  was  prosperous,  and  through  the  streets  of  the 
handsome  modern  city  we  attained  the  quiet  of  an  ujDper 
chamber  in  a  hotel  filled  with  Americans. 

Munich. 

Our  two  days  in  Munich  were  characterized  by  the 
most  laborious  sight-seeing.  A  week,  even  in  our  rapid 
scale  of  travelling,  would  not  have  been  too  much  for 
this  gorgeous  city.  We  gave  what  we  had,  and  cannot 
give  a  good   account  of  it. 

My  first  visit  was  to  the  Pinakethek,  which  I  had  thor- 
oughly explored  some  twenty-three  years  earlier,  when 
the  galleries  of  Italy  and  the  Louvre  were  unknown  to 
me.  Coming  now  quite  freshly  from  Venice,  with 
Rome  and  Florence  still  recent  in  my  experience,  I 
found  the  Munich  gallery  less  grandiose  than  my  former 
remembrance  had  made  it.  The  diary  says,  "  The  Ru- 
benses  are  the  best  feature,  I  note  also  two  fine  heads 
by  Rembrandt,  and  a  first-rate  Paris  Bordone  —  a  female 
head  with  golden  hair  and  dark-red  dress  ;  four  peas- 
ant pictures  by  Murillo,  excellent  in  their  kind,  quite  fa- 
miliar through  copies  and  engravings ;  some  of  the 
best  Albert  Durers.  The  Italian  pictures  not  all  gen- 
uine. None  of  the  Raphaels,  I  should  say,  would  be 
accepted  as  such  in  Italy.  The  Fra  Angelicos  not  good. 
Two  good   Andrea   del   Sartos ;  a  Leonardo   da  Vinci, 


276  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    TIIK    OLIV'K. 

which  seems  to  me  a  little  caricatured  ;  a  room  full  of 
Vander  AV'ertcs,  very  smooth  and  finely  finished  ;  many 
Vandycks,  scarcely  first  rate." 

The  afternoon  of  this  day  \vc  devoted  to  the  Glypto- 
thek,  or  gallery  of  sculpture.  Here  our  first  objects 
of  interest  were  the  ^ginctan  marbles,  wliose  vacant 
places  we  had  so  recently  seen  on  the  breezy  height  of 
the  temple  from  which  they  were  taken. 

We  found  these  rough,  and  attesting  a  period  of  art 
far  more  remote  than  that  of  the  Elgin  marbles.  They 
are  arranged  in  the  ortlcr  in  which  they  stood  before  the 
pediment  of  the  temple,  a  standing  figure  of  Minerva 
in  the  middle,  the  other  figures  tapering  ofi'  on  either 
side,  and  ending  with  two  seated  warriors,  the  feet  of 
either  turned  towards  the  outer  angle  of  his  side  of  the 
pediment.  All  seemed  to  h.ave  belonged  to  a  dispensa- 
tion of  ugliness ;  they  reminded  us  of  some  of  the 
Etruscan  sculptures. 

This  gallery  possesses  a  famous  torso  called  the 
Ilioneus,  concerning  which  Mrs.  Jamieson  rhapso- 
dizes somewhat  in  her  Munich  book.  The  Barberini 
Faun,  too,  is  among  its  trearures.  As  my  readers  may 
not  be  acquainted  wilh  the  artistic  antecedents  of  this 
statue,  I  will  subjoin  for  their  benefit  the  following 
narration,  which  I  abridge  from  the  "  Ricordi  "  of  the 
Marquis  Massimo  d'  Azeglio,  recently  published. 

At  the  time  of  the  French  domination  in  Italy,  the 
Roman  nobles  were  subjected  to  the  levying  of  heavy 
contributions.  The  inconvenience  of  these  requisitions 
(jflL-n  taxed  the  resources  of  the  wealthiest  families,  and 


MUNICH.  277 

led  to  the  sale  of  furniture,  jewels,  and  the  multifarious 
denomination  of  articles  classed  together  as  objets  d'art. 
Among  others,  the  Barberini  family,  in  their  palace  at 
the  Qiiattro  Fontane,  exposed  for  sale  various  antiquit- 
ties,  and  especially  the  torso  of  a  male  figure,  of  Gi'eek 
execution  and  in  Pentelican  marble,  a  relic  of  the  palmy 
days  of  Hellenic  art. 

A  certain  sculptor,  Cavalier  Pacetti,  purchased  this 
last  fragment,  sold  at  auction  for  the  sum  of  seven  or 
eight  hundred  dollars.  The  arms  and  legs  were  wholly 
wanting  —  the  narrator  is  uncertain  as  to  the  head. 
Pacetti  had  made  this  purchase  with  the  view  of  restor- 
ing the  mutilated  statue  to  entireness.  He  proceeded  to 
model  for  himself  the  parts  that  w^ere  wanting,  and  in 
time  produced  the  sleeping  figure  known  as  the  Bar- 
berini Faun. 

This  work  was  esteemed  a  great  success.  Besides  the 
value  of  its  long  and  uncertain  labor  must  be  mentioned 
the  difficulty  of  matching  the  original  marble.  To  ef- 
fect this  the  artist  was  obliged  to  purchase  and  destroy 
another  Greek  statue,  of  less  merit,  whose  marble  sup- 
plied the  material  for  the  restoration. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Napoleonic  era  had  passed 
awa\' ;  the  pope  had  returned  to  Rome.  Foreigners  from 
all  parts  now  flocked  to  the  Eternal  City,  and  to  one 
of  these  Pacetti  sold  his  work  for  many  thousands  of 
dollars.  Before  it  could  be  packed  and  delivered,  how- 
ever, a  governmental  veto  annulled  the  sale,  directing 
the  artist  to  restore  the  statue  to  the  Barberini  family, 
under  the  plea  of  its  being  subject  to  a.  Jidei  conimissa, 


27S  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

and  offering  him  tlic  sum  of  money  expended  by  him  in 
the  first  purchase,  together  with  such  further  compensa- 
tion for  his  hibor  and  materials  as  a  committee  of  ex- 
perts should  award. 

The  unfortunate  Pacetti  resisted  this  injustice  to  the 
extent  of  liis  ability,  lie  demonstrated  the  sale  of  the 
torso  to  have  been  made  without  reserve,  the  money  for 
its  purchase  to  have  been  raised  by  him  with  considera- 
ble effort.  The  further  expense  of  the  secondary  statue 
was  a  heavy  item.  As  an  artist,  he  could  not  allow  any 
one  but  himself  to  set  a  j^rice  upon  his  work. 

In  spite  of  these  arguments,  the  Barberinis,  remem- 
bering that  possession  is  nine  points  of  the  law,  man- 
aged to  confiscate  the  statue  by  armed  force.  Before  this 
last  measure,  however,  a  mandate  informed  the  artist 
that  the  pitiful  sum  offered  to  him  in  exchange  (not  in 
compensation)  for  his  work,  had  been  placed  in  the 
bank,  subject  to  his  order,  and  that  from  this  sum  a 
steady  discount  would  mark  every  day  of  his  delay  to 
close  with  the  shameful  bargain. 

Pacetti  now  fell  ill  with  a  bilious  fever,  the  result  of 
this  bitter  disappointment.  His  recovery  was  only  par- 
tial, and  Ills  death  soon  followed.  His  sons  commenced 
and  continued  a  suit  against  the  Barberini  family.  They 
obtained  a  favorable  judgment,  but  did  not  obtain  their 
property,  which  the  Barberinis  sold  to  the  King  of 
Bavaria. 

I  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  quote  this  history  of 
a  world-renowned  work  of  art.  I  do  not  know  that  a 
more  perfect  anil  successful  comI)ination  of  modern  with 


MUNICH.  279 

ancient  art  exists  than  that  achieved  in  this  Munich 
Faun.  The  mutilated  honor  of  the  Barberini  name  is, 
we  should  fear,  beyond  restoration  by  any  artist. 

The  Glyptothek  closed  much  too  soon  for  us.  With 
the  exception  of  the  sculptures  just  enumerated,  it  pos- 
sesses nothing  that  can  compete  in  interest  with  the 
noted  Italian  galleries,  or  perhaps  with  the  Louvre. 
But  the  few  valuables  that  it  has  are  first  rate  of  their 
kind,  and  it  contains  many  duplicates  of  well-known 
subjects.  The  building  and  arrangements  are  very  ele- 
gant, and  seem  to  cast  a  certain  pathos  over  the  follies 
of  the  old  king,  to  whom  it  owes  its  origin,  making  one 
more  sorry  than  angry  that  one  who  knew  the  Graces  so 
well  should  not  have  fraternized  more  with  the  Virtues. 
The  yEginetan  Minerva  is  stern  and  hideous,  how- 
ever, and  may  have  exercised  an  unfortunate  influence 
over  her  protege. 

We  closed  the  labors  of  this  day  by  visiting  the  colos- 
sal statue  of  Bavaria,  who,  with  a  strange  hospitality, 
throws  open  her  skull  to  the  public.  Tjie  external 
cflect  of  the  figure  is  not  grandiose,  and  the  sudden 
slope  of  the  ground  in  front  makes  it  very  difficult  to 
get  a  good  view  of  it.  With  the  help  of  a  lamp,  and  in 
consideration  of  a  small  fee,  we  ascended  the  spinal 
column,  and  made  ourselves  comfortable  within  the 
sacred  precincts  of  phrenology.  The  circulation,  how- 
ever, soon  became  so  rapid  as  to  produce  a  pressure  at 
the  base  of  the  brain.  Calling  to  the  guardian  below 
to  impede  for  the  moment  all  further  ascent,  we  flowed 
down,  and  the  congestion  was  relieved.     Of  this  statue 


2So  FUO.M    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

an  artist  once  said  to  us,  "As  for  such  a  thing  as  the 
Munich  Bavaria,  the  bigger  it  is,  the  smaller  it  is"  — 
a  saying  not  unintelligible  to  those  \vlio  have  seen  it. 

Our  remaining  thiy  we  devoted,  in  the  iirst  place,  to 
the  new  I'inakothcU.  Here  we  saw  a  large  picture,  by 
Kaulbach,  representing  the  fall  of  Jerusaleni.  Although 
full  of  historical  and  artistic  interest,  it  seemed  to  me 
less  individual  and  remarkable  than  his  cartoons.  A 
series  of  small  pictures  by  the  same  artist  appeared 
quite  unworthy  of  his  great  joowers  and  reputation. 
They  were  exceedingly  well  executed,  certainly,  but 
poorly  conceived,  representing  matters  merely  personal 
to  artistic  and  other  society  in  Munich,  and  of  little 
value  to  the  world  at  large. 

Here  was  also  a  holy  family  by  Overbeck,  closely 
imitated  from  Raphael.  The  diary  speaks  vaguely  of 
"  many  interesting  pictures,  the  religious  ones  the  poor- 
est." I  remember  that  we  greatly  regretted  the  limita- 
tion (jf  our  time  in  visiting  this  gallery.  In  the  vestibule 
of  the  building  we  were  shown  a  splendid  Bavaria,  in 
a  triumphal  car,  driving  four  lions  abreast,  the  work  of 
Schwanthaler.  This  noble  design  so  far  exists  only 
in  i)laslcr ;  one  wouUl  wish  to  see  it  in  line  Munich 
bronze.  Apropos  of  which  I  must  menlif)n,  but  cannot 
describe,  a  visit  to  the  celebrated  foundery  in  which 
many  of  the  best  modern  statues  have  lieen  cast.  Here 
were  Crawford's  noble  works ;  here  the  more  recent 
compositions  of  Rogers,  Miss  Stebbins,  and  Miss 
Hosmer.  An  American  naturally  first  seeks  acquaint- 
ance  here    with    the   works    of  his    countrymen.       He 


MUNICH. 


281 


finds  them  in  distinguished  company.  The  foundery 
keeps  a  plaster  cast  of  each  of  its  models,  and  the 
ghosts  of  our  heroes  appear  with  tie-wig  princes  and 
generals  of  other  times,  as  also  with  poets  and  littera- 
teurs. The  group  of  Goethe  and  Schiller,  crowned 
and  hand  in  hand,  suggests  one  of  the  noblest  of  lite- 
rary reminiscences. —  that  of  the  devoted  and  genuine 
friendship  of  two  most  eminent  authors,  within  the  nar- 
row limits  of  one  small  society.  The  entireness  and 
sincerity  of  each  in  his  own  department  of  art  alone 
made  this  possible.  He  who  dares  to  be  himself,  and 
to  work  out  his  own  ideal,  fears  no  other,  however 
praised  and  distinguished. 

We  visited  the  new  and  old  palaces  in  company  with 
a  small  mob  of  travellers  of  all  nations,  whose  disorderly 
tendencies  were  restrained  bj-  the  palace  cicerones. 
These  worthies  did  the  honors  of  the  place,  told  the 
stories,  and  kept  the  company  together.  In  the  new 
palace  we  were  shown  the  frescos,  the  hall  of  the  battle- 
pieces,  the  famous  gallery  of  beauties,  and  the  throne- 
room,  whose  whole  length  is  adorned  with  life-size 
statues  of  royal  and  ducal  Bavarian  ancestors  in  gilded 
bronze.  The  throne  is  a  great  gilded  chair,  cushioned 
with  crimson  velvet,  the  seat  adorned  with  a  huge  L 
in  gold  embroidery. 

Of  the  gallery  mentioned  just  before,  I  must  say  that 
its  portraits  are  those  of  society  belles,  not  of  artist 
beauties.  However  handsome,  therefore,  they  may 
have  been  in  their  ball  and  court  dresses,  there  is  some- 
thing conventional  and  unlovely  in  their  toute  ensevi- 


282  FlfOM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

ble^  as  a  collection  of  female  heads.  I  wouUl  agree 
to  fiiul  artists  who  shuiikl  make  better  pictures  from 
women  of  the  people,  taken  in  their  ordinary  costume, 
and  with  the  freedom  of  common  life  in  their  actions 
and  expressions.  An  intangible  armor  of  formality 
seems  to  guard  tlie  persons  of  those  great  ladies.  One 
imagines  that  one  could  undcisland  their  faces  better, 
were  they  translated  into  human  nature. 

In  the  old  palace,  which  has  now  rather  a  deserted 
and  denuded  aspect,  we  still  found  traces  of  former 
splendor.  Among  these,  I  remember  a  state  bed  with 
a  covering  so  heavily  embroidered  with  gold,  that  eight 
men  are  requisite  to  lift  it.  The  valet  de  place  aston- 
ished us  with  the  price  of  this  article;  but  having  for- 
gotten his  statement,  I  cannot  astonish  any  one  with  it. 
Of  greater  interest  was  a  room,  whose  walls  bore  every- 
where small  brackets,  supporting  costly  pieces  of  por- 
celain, cups,_//acc?/?5,  and  statuettes.  Be\  ond  this  was  a 
bo/idoir,  whose  vermilion  sides  were  nearly  covered  by 
miniature  paintings,  set  into  tliL-ni.  Many  of  these 
miniatures  were  of  great  beauty  and  value.  Clearly  the 
tastes  of  the  Bavarian  family  were  always  of  the  most 
expensive.  They  looked  after  the  flower  garden,  and 
allowed  the  kitchen  garden  to  take  care  of  itself.  Of 
this  sort  was  the  farming  of  Otho  and  Amalia.  But 
peace  be  to  them.  Otho  is  just  dead  of  measles,  Ama- 
lia ncaily  dead  of  vexations. 

Our  two  days  allowed  us  little  time  for  the  churches 
of  Munich.  The  Frauenkirche  has  inany  antiquities 
more  interesting  than  its  splendid  restorations.     On  one 


MUNICH.  2S3 

of  its  altars  I  found  the  inscription,  "  Holy  mother  Ann, 
pray  for  us."  I  suppose  that  ever  since  the  dogma  of 
the  immaculate  conception  has  become  part  of  church 
discipline,  the  sacred  person  just  mentioned  has  found 
her  clientele  much  enlarged.  The  new  Basilica  is  quite 
gorgeous  in  its  adornments,  but  I  have  preserved  no 
minutes  of  them. 

We  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  a  number  of 
Kaulbach's  drawings,  among  which  were  his  Goethe 
and  Schiller  series,  very  fine  and  full  of  interest. 

One  of  the  last  of  these  represents  Tell  stepping  from 
Gessler's  boat  at  the  critical  moment  described  in  Schil- 
ler's drama.  One  of  the  newest  to  me  was  a  figure  of 
Ottilie,  from  the  Wahlverwandtschaften,  hanging  with 
mingled  horror  and  affection  over  the  innocent  babe  of 
the  story.  The  intense  distress  of  the  young  girl's  coun- 
tenance contrasts  strongly  with  the  reposeful  attitude 
of  the  little  one.  It  made  me  ponder  this  ingenious  and 
laboriously  achieved  distress.  The  very  exuberance  of 
Goethe's  temperament,  I  must  thinlv,  caused  him  to  seek 
his  sorrows  in  regions  quite  remote  from  common  dis- 
aster. The  miseries  of  his  personages  (vide  Werther 
and  the  Wahlverwandtschaften)  are  far-fetched ;  and 
the  alchemy  by  which  he  turns  wholesome  life  into  sen- 
timental anguish  brings  to  light  no  life-treasure  more 
substantial  than  the  fairy  gold  which  genius  is  bound 
to  convert  into  value  more  solid. 

And  this  was  all  of  Munich,  a  place  of  polite  tastes 
surely,  in  which  life  must  flow  on,  adorned  with  many 
pleasantnesses.     Neither    would    business    seem    to   be 


2S4  FROM    TIIIC    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

deficient,  juclginj^  from  the  handsome  shops  and  general 
air  of  prosperity.  Our  view  of  its  resources  was  cer- 
tainly most  cursory.  But  life  is  the  richer  even  for 
adjourned  pleasures,  and  we  shall  never  tliink  of  Munich 
without  desiring  its  better  acquaintance. 

Switzerland. 
Travelling  in  Switzerland  is  now  become  so  common 
and  conventional  as  to  invite  little  comment,  except  from 
those  who  remain  in  the  country  long  enough  to  study 
out  scientific  and  social  questions,  which  the  hasty  trav- 
eller has  not  time  to  entertain  in  even  the  most  cursory 
matter.  I  confess,  for  one,  that  I  was  content  to  be 
enchanted  with  the  wonderful  beauty  which  feasts  the 
eye  without  intermission.  I  was  willing  to  believe  that 
the  mountains  had  done  for  this  people  all  that  they 
should  have  done,  giving  them  political  iinmuuitics,  and 
a  sort  of  necessary  independence,  while  the  hardships 
of  climate  and  situation  keep  stringent  the  social  bond, 
and  temper  the  fierceness  of  individuality  with  the  sense 
of  mutual  need  and  protection.  It  would  be,  I  think, 
an  instructive  study  for  an  American  to  become  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  the  domestic  features  of  Swiss 
republicanism.  It  is  imdoubtedly  a  system  less  lax  and 
more  carefully  administered  than  our  own.  The  door 
is  not  thrown  open  for  beggary,  ignorance,  and  rascality 
to  vote  themselves,  in  the  shape  of  their  representatives, 
the  first  places  in  outward  dignity  and  eflicicnt  power. 
The  old  traditions  of  breeding  and  education  are  care- 
fully   held    to.     Without   the    nonsense   of   aristocratic 


SWITZERLAND.  285 

absolutism,  there  is  yet  no  confusion  of  orders.  The 
mistress  is  mistress,  and  the  maid  is  maid.  Wealth  and 
landed  property  persevere  in  fomilies.  Great  changes 
of  position  without  great  talents  are  rare. 

To  our  American  pretensions,  and  to'  our  brilliant 
style  of  mancEuvring,  the  Swiss  mode  of  life  would 
appear  a  very  slow  business.  It  seems  rather  to  develop 
a  high  mediocrity  than  an  array  of  startling  superiori- 
ties. It  has,  moreover,  no  room  for  daring  theories 
and  experiments.  It  cannot  afford  a  Mormon  corner,  a 
woman's-rights  platform,  an  endless  intricacy  of  specu- 
lating and  swindling  rings.  Whether  we  can  afford 
these  things,  future  generations  will  determine.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  moral  and  political  fiancy-work  done 
in  America  which  another  age  may  put  out  of  sight 
to  make  room  for  necessary  scrubbing,  sweeping,  and 
getting  rid  of  vermin.  Meantime  the  poor  present 
age  works,  and  deceives,  and  dawdles,  hoping  to  be 
dismissed  with  the  absolving  edict,  "  She  hath  done 
what  she  could." 

Hotels,  railways,  and  depots  in  Switzerland  are  com- 
fortable, and  managed  with  great  order  and  system. 
The  telegraph  arrangements  are  admirable,  cheap,  and 
punctual,  as  they  might  be  here,  if  they  were  adminis- 
tered for  the  people's  interest,  and  not  for  the  aggran- 
dizement of  private  fortunes.  Living  and  comfort  are 
expensive  to  the  traveller,  not  exorbitant.  Subordi- 
nates neither  insult  nor  cringe.  Churches  are  well  filled  ; 
intelligent  and  intelligible  doctrine  is  preached.  Edu- 
cation is  valued,  and  liberal  provision  is  made  for  those 


286  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

classes  in  which  natural  disability  calls  for  special  modes 
of  instruction.  I  dare  not  go  more  into  generals,  from 
my  very  limited  opportunity  of  observation.  Every- 
thing, however,  in  tlie  aspect  of  town  and  country,  leads 
one  to  suppose  that  the  average  of  crime  must  be  a  low 
one,  and  that  the  preventing  influences  —  so  much  more 
cllicient  tlian  remedial  measures  —  have  long  been  at 
work.  It  is  Protestant  Switzerland  which  makes  this 
impression  most  strongly.  In  the  Catholic  cantons,  beg- 
gary exists  and  is  tolerated  as  a  thing  of  course  ;  yet  the 
Protestant  element  has  everywhere  its  representation  and 
its  influence. 

Swiss  Catholicism  has  not  tlie  slavish  ignorance  of 
Roman  Catholicism.  I'lic  little  paintetl  crucifixes  by  the 
wayside  indeed  afllict  one  by  their  impotence  and  insig- 
nificance. Not  thus  shall  Christ  be  recognized  in  these 
days.  In  some  places  their  frequency  reminded  me  of 
the  recurrence  of  the  pattern  on  a  calico  or  a  wall 
paper.  Yet,  as  a  whole,  one  feels  that  Switzerland  is 
a  Protestant  power. 

For  specials,  I  must  have  recourse  to  the  insuflicient 
pages  of  the  diary,  which  give  the  following:  — 

August  13.  Museum  at  Zurich.  Lacustrine  re- 
mains, in  stone,  flint,  and  bronze  ;  fragments  of  the  oKI 
piles,  cut  with  stone  knives.  Hand-mill  for  corn,  con- 
sisting of  a  hollow  stone  and  a  round  one,  concave  and 
convex.  Toilet  ornaments,  in  bone  and  bronze  ;  a  few 
in  gold.  —  The  Librar}-.  Lady  Jane  Grey's  letters,  three 
in  number;  Zwingle's  Greek  Bible.  —  The  Armory. 
Zwingle's  helmet  and  battle-axe;  three  suits  of  female 


SWITZERLAND.  287 

armor ;  curious  shields,  cannon,  pikes,  and  every  va- 
riety of  personal  defence. 

August  14.  Left  Zurich  at  half  past  six  A.  M.  for 
Lucerne,  reaching  the  latter  place  at  half  past  eight. 
Visited  Thorwaldscn's  lion,  whose  majestic  presence  I 
had  not  forgotten  in  twenty-three  years.  Yet  the  Swiss 
hireling  under  foreign  pay  is  a  mischievous  institution. 
At  two  P.  M.  took  the  boat  for  Hergeswyl,  intending  to 
ascend  from  that  point  the  Mount  Pilatus.  At  half  past 
three  began  this  ascension.  The  road  is  very  fine,  and 
my  leader  was  excellent ;  yet  I  had  some  uncomfortable 
moments  in  the  latter  part  of  the  ascent,  which  was  in 
zigzag,  and  very  steep.  Each  horse  cost  ten  francs,  and 
each  leader  was  to  have  a  trink-geld  besides.  We 
stopped  very  gladly  at  the  earliest  reached  of  the  two  ho- 
tels which  render  habitable  the  heights  of  the  mountain. 
We  learned  too  late  that  it  would  have  been  better  to  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  that  which  stands  nearly  on  the  summit. 
We  should  thus  have  gained  time  for  the  great  spectacle 
of  the  sunrise  on  the  following  morning.  Our  view  of 
the  sunset,  too,  would  have  been  more  extended.  Yet 
we  were  well  content  v^ith  it.  Near  the  hotel  was  a 
very  small  Catholic  chapel,  through  whose  painted  win- 
dows we  tried  to  peep.  A  herd  of  goats  feeding  near 
by  made  music  with  their  tinkling  bells.  Swiss  sounds 
are  as  individual  as  Swiss  sights.  Voices,  horns,  bells, 
all  have  their   peculiar  ring  in   these  high  atmospheres. 

We  lay  down  at  night  with  the  intention  of  rising  at  a 
quarter  of  four  next  morning,  in  order  to  witness  the  sun- 
rise from  the  highest  point  of  the  mountain.     Mistaking 


2SS  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

some  sounds  which  disturbed  my  slumbers  for  the 
guide's  summons,  I  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  liaving  no 
match,  made  a  hasty  toilet  in  the  dark,  and  then  ran  to 
arouse  my  companions.  One  of  these,  fortunately,  was 
able  to  strike  a  light  and  look  at  his  watch.  It  was  just 
twelve,  and  my  zeal  and  energy  had  been  misdirected. 
When  I  again  awoke,  it  was  at  four  A.  M.,  already 
rather  late  for  our  purpose.  We  dressed  hastily,  and 
veliemently  started  on  tlie  upward  zigzag.  As  the  guide 
luul  not  yet  appeared,  I  carried  our  night  bundle,  but  for 
which  I  should  have  kept  the  lead  of  the  party.  Small 
as  was  its  weight,  I  felt  it  sensibly  in  this  painful  ascent, 
and  was  thankful  to  relinquish  it  when  the  tardy  guide 
came  up  with  us.  In  spite  of  his  aid,  I  was  much  dis- 
tressed for  breath,  and  suffered  from  a  thirst  surpassing 
that  of  fever.  My  ears  also  ached  exceedingly  in  con- 
sequence of  the  rarefaction  of  the  atmosphere.  The 
last  etTort  of  the  ascent  was  made  upon  a  ladder  pitched 
at  such  an  angle  that  one  could  climb  it  only  on  hands 
and  knees.  We  reached  the  last  peak  a  little  late  for 
the  sunrise,  but  enjoyed  a  near  and  magnificent  view  of 
the  snow  Alps.  The  diary  contains  no  description  of 
this  prospect.  I  can  only  remember  that  its  coloring 
and  extent  were  wondcrfid.  But  a  day  of  fatigue  was 
still  before  us.  Breakfasting  at  six  o'clock,  we  soon 
commenced  the  painful  downward  journey.  No  "yiz- 
c///s  dcsccfisus"  wAa  this,  but  a  climbing  down  which 
lasted  three  full  hours.  We  had  kept  but  one  horse  for 
this  part  of  our  journey,  but  this  was  such  an  uncertain 
and  stumbling  beast  that  we   gladly  surrendered  him  to 


SWITZERLAND.  289 

our  chief,  who,  in  spite  of  this  assistance,  was  found 
more  than  once  lying  on  a  log,  assuring  us  that  his  end 
was  at  hand.  We  had  little  breath  to  spare  for  his  con- 
solation, but  gave  him  a  silent  and  aching  sympathy. 
A  pleasant  party  of  English  girls  left  the  hotel  when  we 
did,  one  on  horseback  and  three  on  foot.  The  hardships 
of  the  way  brought  us  together.  I  can  still  recall  the 
ring  of  their  voices,  and  the  freshness  and  sparkle  of 
their  faces,  which  really  encouraged  my  eflbrts.  The 
pleasures  of  this  descent  were  as  intense  as  its  pains. 
The  brilliant  grass  was  enamelled  with  wild  flowers,  ex- 
quisite in  color  and  fragrance.  The  mountain  air  was 
bracing  and  delightful,  the  details  of  tree  and  stream  most 
picturesque.  For  some  reason,  which  I  now  forget, 
we  stopped  but  little  to  take  rest.  At  a  small  chalet 
half  way  down,  we  enjoyed  a  glass  of  beer,  and  were 
waited  upon  by  a  maiden  in  white  sleeves  and  black 
bodice,  her  fair  hair  being  braided  with  a  strip  of  white 
linen,  and  secured  in  its  place  by  a  large  pin  with  an 
ornamented  head.  We  reached  Alpenach  in  a  state  of 
body  and  of  wardrobe  scarcely  describable.  But  our 
minds  at  least  were  at  ease.  We  had  done  something  to 
make  a  note  of.  We  had  been  to  the  top  of  Mons 
Pilatus. 

Of  Intcrlaken  the  diary  preserves  nothing  worth 
transcribing.  The  great  beauty  of  the  scenery  made  us 
reluctant  to  leave  it  after  a  few  hours  of  enjoyment. 
The  appalling  fashionable  and  watering-place  aspect  of 
the  streets  and  hotels,  on  the  other  hand,  rendered  it  un- 
congenial to  quiet  travellers,  whose  strength  did  not  lie  in 
19 


390  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OI.IVE. 

the  clothes  line.  Our  brief  stay  sliowcd  us  the  greatest 
mixture  and  variety  of  people  ;  the  hotels  were  splendid 
with  showy  costumes,  the  shops  tempting  with  onyx,  am- 
ethyst, and  crystal  ornaments.  We  saw  here  also  a  great 
display  of  carvings  in  wood.  The  unpaved  streets  were 
gay  with  equipages  and  donkey  parties.  A  sousing  rain 
soon  made  confusion  among  them,  and  reconciled  us  to 
a  speedy  departure. 

Of  Berne  and  Fribourg  I  will  chronicle  only  the 
organ  concerts,  given  to  exhibit  the  resources  of  two 
famous  instruments.  At  both  places  we  found  the  or- 
gan very  fine,  and  the  musical  performance  very  trashy. 
No  real  organ  music  was  given  on  cither  occasion,  the 
piece  de  resistance  being  an  imitation  of  a  thunder- 
storm. Both  instruments  seemed  to  me  to  surpass  our 
own  great  organ  in  beauty  and  variety  of  tone.  The 
larger  proportions  of  the  buildings  in  which  they  are 
heard  may  contribute  to  this  result.  Both  of  these  are 
cathedrals,  with  fine  vaulted  roofs  and  long  aisles,  very 
dinbrent  from  the  esscntialh'  civic  character  of  the  music 
hall,  wliose  compact  squareness  cannot  deal  with  the 
iminense  volume  of  sound  thrown  upon  its  hands  by  tiie 
present  overgrown  incum — bent. 

The  Gueat    Exi'osition. 

It  would  be  unfair  to  American  journalism  not  to  sup- 
pose that  all  possible  information  concerning  the  Great 
Exposition  has  already  been  given  to  the  great  republic. 
Tiiere  have  doubtless  l)cen  quires  upon  quires  of  bril- 
liant writiuir  devoted  to  that  abs()rbin<r  tlieme.     Columns 


THE    GREAT    EXPOSITION.  29I 

from  the  most  authentic  sources  have  been  commanded 
and  paid  for.  American  writing  is  rich  in  epithets,  and 
we  may  suppose  that  all  the  adjective  splendors  have 
been  put  in  requisition  to  aid  imagination  to  take  the 
place  of  sight.  Yet,  as  the  diversities  of  landscape 
painting  show  the  different  views  which  may  be  taken 
of  one  nature,  even  so  the  view  taken  by  my  sober  in- 
strument may  possibly  show  something  that  has  escaped 
another. 

I  here  refer  to  the  pages  of  my  oft-quoted  diary.  But 
alas !  the  wretch  deserts  me  in  the  hour  of  my  greatest 
need.  I  find  a  record  of  my  first  visit  only,  and  that 
couched  in  one  prosaic  phrase  as  follows  :  Exposition  — 
valet,  six  francs. 

Now,  I  am  not  a  Cuvier,  to  reconstruct  a  whole  ani- 
mal from  a  single  fossil  bone  ;  nor  am  I  a  German  his- 
torian, to  present  the  picture  of  a  period  by  inventing 
the  opposite  of  its  records.  Yet  what  I  can  report  of 
this  great  feature  of  the  summer  must  take  as  its  start- 
ing-point this  phrase  :  Exposition  —  valet,  six  francs. 

This  extravagant  attendance  was  secured  by  us  on  the 
occasion  of  our  first  visit,  when,  passing  inside  the  nar- 
row turnstile,  with  ready  change  and  eager  mind,- we 
encountered  the  great  reality  we  had  to  deal  with,  and 
felt,  to  our  dismay,  that  spirit  would  help  us  little,  and 
that  flesh  and  blood,  eyes  and  muscles,  must  do  their 
utmost,  and  begin  by  acknowledging  a  defeat.  Looking 
on  the  diverse  paths,  and  flags  and  buildings,  we  sought 
an  Ariadne,  and  found  at  least  a  guide  whom  Bacchus 
might  console.    Escorted  by  him,  we  entered   the  first 


\ 

292  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

great  liall,  with  massive  inachincs  partially  displayed  on 
one  side.  A  coup  d\vll  was  what  we  sought  on  this 
occasion,  and  our  movements  were  rapid.  The  Sevre 
porcelains,  tlie  magnificent  French  and  English  glasses, 
the  weighty  majolicas,  the  Gobelin  tapestries,  and  the 
galleries  of  paintings,  chiefly  consumed  our  six  francs, 
which  represented  some  three  hours.  Magnificent  ser- 
vices of  plate,  some  in  silver,  and  some  in  imitation  of 
silver,  were  shown  to  us.  In  another  place  the  close 
clustering  of  men  and  women  around  certain  glass 
cases  made  us  suspect  the  attraction  of  jewelry,  which 
may  be  called  the  sugar-plum  me  ry  of  aesthetics.  Insin- 
uating ourselves  among  the  human  bees,  we,  too,  fed 
our  eyes  on  these  sweets.  Diadems,  necklaces,  earrings, 
sufficient,  in  the  hands  of  a  skilful  Satan,  to  accomplish 
the  damnation  of  the  whole  female  sex,  were  here 
displayed.  I  was  glad  to  see  these  dangerous  imple- 
ments of  temptation  restrained  within  cases  of  solid 
glass.  I  myself  would  fain  have  written  upon  them, 
"  Deadly  poison."  There  are  enough,  however,  to 
preach,  and  I  practised  by  running  off  from  these  disput- 
ed neighborhoods,  and  passing  to  the  contemplation  of 
treasures  which  to  see  is  to  have. 

Among  the  Gobelins  I  was  amazed  to  see  a  fine 
presentation  of  Titian's  Sacred  and  Profane  Love,  a  pic- 
ture of  universal  reputation.  The  difficulty  of  copying 
so  old  and  so  perfect  a  work  in  tapestry  made  this  suc- 
cess a  very  remarkable  one.  Very  beautiful,  too,  was 
their  cojiy  of  Guido's  Aurora,  and  yet  less  dilllcult  than 


THE    GREAT    EXPSOITION.  293 

the  other,  the  coloring  being  at  once  less  subtile  and 
more  brilliant. 

I  remember  a  gigantic  pyramid  of  glass,  which  arose, 
like  a  frost-stricken  fountain,  in  the  middle  of  the  Eng- 
lish china  and  glass  department.  I  remember  huge 
vases,  cups  as  thin  as  egg-shell,  pellucid  crystals  in  all 
shapes,  a  glory  of  hard  materials  and  tender  colors. 
And  I  remember  a  department  of  raw  material,  fibres, 
minerals,  germs,  and  grains,  and  a  department  of  East- 
ern confectionery,  and  one  of  Algerine  small  work,  to 
wit,  jewelry  and  embroidery.  An  American  soda  foun- 
tain caused  us  to  tingle  with  renewed  associations.  And 
we  hear,  with  shamefaced  satisfaction,  that  American 
drinks  have  proved  a  feature  in  this  great  phenome- 
non. Machines  have,  of  course,  been  creditable  to  us. 
Chickering  and  Steinway  have  carried  off  prizes  in  a 
piano-forte  tilt,  each  grudging  the  other  his  share  of  the 
common  victory.  And  our  veteran's  maps  for  the  blind 
have  received  a  silver  medal.  Tiflany,  the  New  York 
jeweller,  presents  a  good  silver  miniature  of  Crawford's 
beautiful  America.  And  with  these  successes  our  patri- 
otism must  now  be  content.  We  are  not  ahead  of  all 
creation,  so  far  as  the  Exposition  is  concerned,  and  the 
things  that  do  us  most  credit  must  be  seen  and  studied 
in  our  midst. 

Our  longest  lingerings  in  the  halls  of  the  Exposition 
were  among  the  galleries  of  art.  Among  these  the 
French  pictures  were  preeminent  in  interest.  The 
group  of  Jerome's  paintings  were  the  most  striking  of 
their  kind,  uniting  finish  w'ith  intensity,  and  both  with 


294  rnoM  the  oak  to  the  olive. 

ease.  In  his  choice  of  subjects,  Jerome  is  not  a  Puri- 
tan. The  much  admired  Ahnec  is  a  picture  of  low 
scope,  excusable  only  as  an  historic  representation. 
The  judgment  of  Phryne  will  not  commend  itself 
more  to  maids  and  matrons  who  love  their  limits.  Both 
pictures,  however,  are  powerfully  conceived  and  colored. 
The  "  Ave  Cesar  "  of  the  morituri  before  Vitellius  is 
better  inspired,  if  less  well  executed,  and  holds  the  mir- 
ror close  in  the  cruel  face  of  absolute  power. 

Study  of  the  Italian  masters  was  clearly  visible  in 
many  of  the  best  works  of  the  French  gallery.  I  recall 
a  fine  triptych  representing  the  story  of  the  prodigal 
son,  in  which  the  chief  picture  spoke,  plainly  of  Paul 
Veronese,  and  his  Venetian  life  and  coloring.  In  this 
picture  the  prodigal  appeared  as  the  lavish  entertainer 
of  gay  company.  A  banquet,  shared  by  joyous  hctainv^ 
occupied  the  canvas.  A  slender  compartment  on  the 
right  showed  the  second  act  of  the  drama  —  hunger, 
swine-feeding,  and  repentance.  A  similar  one  on  the 
left  gave  the  plcasanter  denouemoit  —  the  return,  the  wel- 
come, the  feast  of  forgiveness.  Both  of  the  latter  sub- 
jects were  treated  in  chiaroscuro^  a  manner  that  height- 
ened the  contrast  between  the  flush  of  pleasure  and 
the  jDallor  of  its  consequences.  Rosa  Bonheur's  part 
in  the  Exposition  was  scarcely  equal  to  her  reputation. 
One  charming  picture  of  a  boat-load  of  sheep  crossing 
a  Highland  loch  still  dwells  in  mv  memory  like  a  lim- 
pid sapphire,  so  lovely  was  tlie  color  of  tiie  water.  The 
Russian,  vSwedish,  and  Danish  pictures  surprised  me  by 
their  good  points.     If  we  may  judge  of  Russian   art  l)y 


THE    GREAT    EXPOSITION.  295 

these  specimens,  it  is  not  behind  the  European  standard 
of  attainment.  Of  the  Bavarian  gallery,  rich  in  works 
of  interest,  I  can  here  mention  but  two.  The  first  must 
be  a  very  large  and  magnificent  cartoon  by  Kaulbach, 
representing  a  fancied  assemblage  of  illustrious  person- 
ages at  the  period  of  the  Reformation.  Luther,  Eras- 
mus, and  Melanchthon  were  prominent  among  these,  the 
whole  belonging  to  a  large  style  of  historical  compo- 
sition. 

The  second  was  already  familiar  to  us  through  a  pho- 
tograph seen  and  admired  in  Munich.  It  is  called  Ste. 
Julie,  and  represents  a  young  Christian  martyr,  dead 
upon  the  cross,  at  whose  foot  a  young  man  is  depositing 
an  offering  of  flowers.  The  pale  beauty  and  repose  of 
the  figure,  the  massive  hair  and  lovely  head,  the  mod- 
esty of  attitude  and  attire,  are  very  striking.  The  sky 
is  subdued,  clear,  and  gray,  the  black  hair  standing  out 
powerfully  against  it.  The  whole  palette  seems  to  have 
been  set  with  pure  and  pearly  tints.  One  thinks  the 
brushes  that  painted  this  fair  dove  could  never  paint  a 
courtesan.  A  single  star,  the  first  of  evening,  breaks 
the  continuity  of  the  twilight  sky.  This  picture  seemed 
as  if  it  should  make  those  who  look  at  it  thenceforward 
more  tender,  and  more  devout.  Among  the  English 
pictures,  the  Enemy  sowing  Tares,  by  Millais,  was  par- 
ticularly original  —  a  malignant  sky,  full  of  blight  and 
destruction,  and  a  malignant  wretch,  smiling  at  mischief, 
and  scowling  at  good,  —  a  powerful  figure,  mighty  and 
mean.  This  picture  makes  one  start  and  shudder ; 
such  must  have  been  its  intention,  and  such  is  its  success. 


296  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLI\i:. 

Among  sculptures,  the  most  conspicuous  was  one 
called  the  Last  Hour  of  Napoleon  —  a  ilguic  in  an  in- 
valid's chair,  with  drooping  head  and  worn  countenance, 
the  map  of  the  globe  lying  spread  upon  his  passive 
knees.  Every  trait  already  says,  "  This  'Ujas  Napoleon," 
the  man  of  modern  times  who  longest  survived  himself, 
who  was  dead  and  could  not  expire.  Wreaths  of  im- 
mortelles always  lay  at  the  foot  of  this  statue.  It  is  the 
work  of  an  Italian  artist,  and  the  only  scidpture  in  the 
whole  exhibition  which  I  can  recall  as  easily  and  de- 
servedly remembered. 

Our  American  part  in  the  art-exhil)ition  was  not 
great.  William  Hunt's  pictures  were  badly  placed,  and 
not  grouped,  as  they  should  have  been,  to  give  an  ade- 
quate idea  of  the  variety  of  his  merits.  Bieistadt's 
Rocky  ISIountains  looked  thin  in  coloring,  and  showed 
a  want  of  design.  Church's  Niagara  was  elTective. 
Johnston's  Old  Kentucky  Home  was  excellent  in  its 
kind,  and  characteristic.  Kensett  had  a  good  land- 
scape. But  America  has  still  more  to  learn  tlian  to 
teach  in  the  way  of  high  art.  Success  among  us  is  too 
cheap  and  easy.  Art-critics  are  wordy  and  ignorant, 
praising  from  caprice  rather  than  from  conscience.  It 
would  be  most  important  for  us  to  form  at  least  one 
gallery  of  art  in  which  American  artists  might  study 
something  better  than  themselves.  The  presence  of 
twenty  first-rate  pictures  in  one  of  our  great  cities 
would  save  a  great  deal  of  going  abroad,  and  help  to 
form  a  sincere  and  intelligent  standard  of  aesthetic  juilg- 
ment.     Such   pictures  should,  of  course,   be  constantly 


THE    GREAT    EXPOSITION.  297 

open  to  the  public,  as  no  private  collection  can  well  be. 
We  should  have  a  Titian,  a  Rubens,  an  Andrea,  a  Paul 
Veronese,  and  so  on.  But  these  pictures  should  be  of 
historical  authenticity.  The  most  responsible  artists  of 
the  country  should  be  empowered  to  negotiate  for  them, 
and  the  money  might  be  afforded  from  the  heavy  gains 
of  late  years  with  far  more  honor  and  profit  than  the 
superfluous  splendors  with  which  the  fortunate  of  this 
period  bedizen  their  houses  and  their  persons. 

Among  American  sculptures  I  may  mention  a  pleasing 
medallion  or  two  by  Miss  Foley.  Miss  Hosmer's  Faun 
is  a  near  relative  in  descent  from  the  Barberini  Faun, 
and,  however  good  in  execution,  has  little  originality  of 
conception.  And  these  things  I  say,  Beloved,  in  the  bo- 
som of  our  American  fomily,  because  I  think  they  ought 
to  be  said,  and  not  out  of  pride  or  fancied  superiority. 

I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  have  already  told  the 
little  I  am  able  to  tell  of  the  Exposition  as  seen  by 
daylight  —  the  little,  at  least,  that  every  one  else  has 
not  told.  But  I  visited  the  enclosure  once  in  the  even- 
ing, when  only  the  cafes  -were  open.  Among  these  I 
sought  a  beer-shop  characterized  as  the  Bavarian  brew- 
ery, and  sought  it  long  and  with  trouble  ;  for  the  long, 
winding  paths  showed  us,  one  after  the  other,  many 
agglomerations  of  light,  which  were  obviously  places 
of  public  entertainment,  and  in  each  of  which  we  ex- 
pected to  find  our  Bavarian  brewery,  famous  for  the 
musical  performances  of  certain  gypsies  much  spoken 
of  in  Parisian  circles.  In  the  pursuit  of  this  we  entered 
half  a  dozen  buildings,  in  each  of  which  some  charac- 


298  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

tciistic  entertainment  was  proceeding.  Coniing  finally 
to  the  object  of  our  search,  we  found  it  a  plain  room 
with  small  tables,  half  filled  with  visitors.  Opposite 
the  entrance  was  a  small  orchestral  stage,  on  which 
were  seated  the  wild  musicians  whom  wc  sought.  A 
franc  each  person  was  the  entrance  fee,  and  wc  were 
scarcely  seated  before  a  functionary  authoritatively  in- 
vited us  to  command  some  refreshment,  in  a  tone  which 
was  itself  the  order  of  the  day.  In  obedience,  one 
ordered  beer,  another  gloria^  a  third  cigars  —  all  at 
extortionate  prices.  But  then  the  music  was  given  for 
nothing,  and  must  be  paid  for  somehow.  And  it  proved 
worth  paying  for.  At  first  the  body  of  sound  seemed 
overpowering,  for  there  was  no  pianissimo,  and  not  one 
of  the  regular  orchestral  eflects.  A  weird-looking  leader 
in  high  boots  stood  and  fiddled,  holding  his  violin  now 
on  a  level  with  his  eyes,  now  with  his  nose,  now  with 
his  stomach,  writhing  and  swaying  with  excitement,  his 
excitable  troupe  foliowing  the  ups  and  downs  of  his 
movement  like  a  track  of  gaunt  hounds  dashing  after 
a  spectre.  The  cafe  gradually  filled,  and  orders  were 
asked  and  given.  But  little  disturbance  did  these  give 
either  to  the  band  or  its  hearers.  They  played  various 
wild  airs  and  symphonies  (not  technical  ones),  being 
partiallv  advised  therein  by  an  elegant  male  personage 
who  sat  leaning  his  head  upon  his  jewelled  hand,  ab- 
sorbed in  attention.  These  melodies  were  obviously 
compositions  of  the  most  eccentric  and  accidental  sort. 
Not  thus  do  great  or  small  harmonists  mate  their  tones 
and  arch  their  passages.     But  there  was  a  vivacity  and 


PICTURES    IN    ANTWERP.  299 

a  passion  in  all  that  these  men  did  which  made  every 
bar  seem  full  of  electric  fire  ;  and  these  must  be,  I 
thought,  traditional  vestiges  of  another  time,  when 
music  was  not  yet  an  art,  but  only  nature.  Here 
Dwight's  Journal  has  no  power.  Beethoven  or  Han- 
del may  do  as  he  likes  ;  these  do  as  they  please,  also. 
This  is  the  heathendom  of  art,  in  which  feeling  is  all, 
authority  nothing  ;  in  which  rules  are  only  suspected, 
not  created.  After  an  hour  or  more  of  this  entertain- 
ment, we  left  it,  not  unwillingly,  being  a  little  weary 
of  its  labyrinthine  character  and  un moderated  ecstasy. 
Yet  we  left  it  much  impressed  with  the  musical  material 
presented  in  it.  Our  civilized  orchestras  have  no  such 
enthusiasts  as  that  nervous  leader,  with  his  leaping  vio- 
lin and  restraining  high  boots.  And  this,  with  the 
lights  and  shadows,  and  broken  music  of  the  outside 
walks,  is  all  that  I  saw  of  evening  at  the  Exposition. 

Pictures  in  Antwerp. 
As  you  cannot,  v*'ith  rare  exceptions,  see  Raphael 
out  of  Italy,  so,  I  should  almost  say,  you  cannot  see 
Rubens  and  Vandyck  out  of  Belgium.  This  is  espe- 
cially true  of  the  former ;  for  one  does,  I  confess,  see 
marvellous  portraits  of  Vandyck's  in  Genoa  and  in 
other  places.  But  one  judges  a  painter  best  by  seeing 
a  group  of  his  best  works,  which  show  his  sphere  of 
thought  with  some  completeness.  A  single  sentence 
suffices  to  show  the  great  poet ;  but  no  one  will  assume 
that  a  sentence  will  give  you  to  know  as  much  of 
him  as  a  poem  or  volume.     So  the  detached  sentences 


300 


FROM  THE  OAK  TO  THE  OLIVE. 


of  the  two  great  Flemish  painters,  easily  met  with  in 
European  galleries,  bear  genuine  evidence  of  the  mas- 
ter's hand  ;  but  the  collections  of  Antwerp  and  Bruges 
show  us  the  master  himself.  Intcntling  no  disrespect 
to  Florence,  Munich,  or  the  Medicean  series  at  the 
Louvre,  I  must  say  that  I  had  no  just  measure  of  the 
dignity  of  Rubens  as  a  man  and  as  an  artist,  until  I 
stood  before  his  two  great  pictures  in  the  Cathedral  of 
Antwerp.  One  of  these  represents  the  Elevation  of  the 
Cross.  Mathematically  it  oflcnds  one  —  the  cross,  the 
principal  object  in  the  picture,  being  seen  diagonally, 
in  an  uneasy  and  awkward  posture.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  face  of  the  Christ  corresponds  fully  to  the 
heroism  of  the  moment ;  it  expresses  the  human  horror 
and  agony,  but,  triumphing  over  all,  the  steadfastness 
of  resolve  and  faith.  It  is  a  transliguration  —  the  spirit- 
ual glory  holding  its  own  above  all  circumstances  of 
pain  and  infamy.  A  sort  of  beautifid  surprise  is  in  the 
eyes  —  the  first  deadly  pang  of  an  organism  unused  to 
suOcr.  It  is  a  face  that  lifts  one  above  the  weakness 
and  meanness  of  ordinary  human  life.  Tliis  soul,  one 
sees,  had  the  true  talisman,  the  true  treasure.  If  we 
earn  what  he  did,  we  can  afford  to  let  all  else  go.  The 
Descent  from  the  Cross  is  belter  known  than  its  fellow- 
picture.  It  had  not  to  me  the  wonderful  interest  of  the 
living  face  of  Christ  in  the  supreme  moment  of  his 
great  life  ;  for  I  shall  always  consider  that  the  Christ 
represented  in  the  Elevation  is  a  true  Christ,  not  a  mere 
fancy  figure  or  dramatic  ghost.  The  Descent  is,  how- 
ever, more  grand  and  satisfactory  in   its  grouping,  and 


PICTURES    IN   ANTWERP.  3OI 

the  contrast  between  the  agony  of  the  friendly  faces 
that  surround  the  chief  figui"e  and  the  dead  peace  of 
his  expression  and  attitude  is  profound  and  pathetic. 
The  head  and  body  fall  heavily  upon  the  arms  of  those 
who  support  it,  and  who  seem  to  bear  an  inward  weight 
far  transcending  the  outward  one.  The  pale  face  of  the 
Virgin  is  stricken  and  compressed  with  sorrow.  Each 
of  the  pictures  is  the  centre  of  a  triptych,  the  two  smaller 
paintings  representing  subjects  in  harmony  with  the 
chief  groups.  On  the  right  of  the  Descent  we  have 
Mary  making  her  historical  visit  to  the  house  of  Elisa- 
beth ;  on  the  left,  the  presentation  of  the  infant  Christ 
in  the  temple.  On  the  right  of  the  Elevation  is  a  group 
of  those  daughters  of  Jerusalem  to  whom  Christ  said, 
"  Weep  not  for  me."  The  subject  on  the  left  is  less 
significant. 

With  these  pictures  deserves  to  rank  the  Flagellation 
of  Christ,  by  the  same  artist,  in  the  Church  of  St.  Paul. 
The  resplendent  fairness  of  the  body,  the  cruel  reality 
of  the  bleeding  which  follows  the  scourge,  and  the  ex- 
pression of  genuine  but  noble  suflering,  seize  upon  the 
very  quick  of  sympathy,  weakened  by  mythicism  and 
sentimentalism.  This  fair  body,  sensitive  as  yours  or 
mine,  endured  bitter  and  agonizing  blows.  This  great 
heart  was  content  to  endure  them  as  the  penalty  of  be- 
queathing to  mankind  its  priceless  secret. 

The  churches  of  Antwerp  are  rich  in  architecture, 
paintings,  and  marbles.  In  the  latter  the  Church  of  St. 
Jacques  excels,  the  high  altar  and  side  chapels  being 
adorned  with  twisted  columns  of  white  marble,  and  with 


302  FI50M    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

various  sculptures.  The  Musec  contains  many  pictures 
of  great  reputation  and  merit.  Amonc^  these  are  a 
miniature  2:)aintinc(  of  the  Descent  from  the  Cross,  by 
Rubens  himself,  closel}-,  but  not  wholly,  corresponding 
with  his  great  picture  ;  the  Education  of  the  Virgin, 
and  the  Vierge  au  Perroquct,  both  by  Rubens,  in  his 
most  brilliant  style.  Another  composition  represents 
St.  Theresa  imploring  the  Savior  to  release  from  pur- 
gatory the  soul  of  a  benefactor  of  her  order.  Rubens 
is  said  to  have  given  to  this  benefactor  the  features  of 
Vandyck,  and  to  one  of  the  angels  releasing  him  those 
of  his  young  wife,  Helena  Forman  ;  while  the  face  of 
an  old  man  still  in  siiirering  represents  his  own. 

This  gallery  contains  three  Vandycks  of  lirst-class 
merit,  each  of  which  will  detain  the  attention  of  lovers 
of  art.  The  one  that  first  meets  your  eye  is  a  Pieta,  in 
which  the  body  of  Christ  is  stretched  horizontally,  his 
bead  lying  on  the  lap  of  his  mother.  The  strongest 
point  of  the  picture  is  the  Virgin's  sorrow,  expressed 
in  her  pallid  face,  eyes  worn  with  weeping,  and  out- 
stretched hands.  The  second  is  a  small  crucifix,  very 
harmonious  and  expressive.  The  third  is  a  life-size 
picture  of  the  crucifixion,  with  a  very  indiviihial  tone 
of  color.  The  Virgin,  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  has  great 
truth  and  dignity,  but  is  rather  a  modern  figure  for  the 
subject.  But  the  pride  of  the  whole  collection  is  a 
iniitiue  triptych  by  C^uintin  Matsys,  his  greatest  work, 
and  one  without  which  the  extent  of  his  power  can 
never  be  realized.  The  central  picture  represents  a 
dead   Christ,  surrounded    in   the   men   and   wimien   who 


PICTURES    IN   ANTWERP.  303 

ministered  to  him,  preparing  him  for  sepulture.  The 
right  hand  of  the  Christ  lies  half  open,  with  a  wonder- 
ful expression  of  acquiescence.  The  faces  of  those  who 
surround  him  are  full  of  intense  interest  and  tenderness  ; 
the  Virgin's  countenance  expresses  heart-break.  The 
whole  picture  disposes  you  to  weep,  not  from  sentiment- 
alism,  but  from  real  sympathy.  Of  the  side  pieces,  one 
represents  the  wicked  women  with  the  head  of  John  the 
Baptist,  the  other  the  martyrdom  of  Ste.  Barbe.  Add 
to  these  some  of  the  best  Teniers,  Ostades,  Ruysdaels, 
and  Vanderweldes,  with  many  excellent  w&rks  of  second- 
class  merit,  and  you  will  understand,  as  well  as  words 
can  tell  you,  what  treasures  lie  within  the  Musee  of 
Antwerp, 

Copy  is  exhausted,  say  the  printers.  Perhaps  pa- 
tience gave  out  first.  My  MS.  is  at  end  —  not  handsome- 
ly rounded  off,  nor  even  shortened  by  a  surgical  ampu- 
tation, but  broken  at  some  point  in  which  facts  left  no 
room  for  words.  Observation  became  absorbing,  and 
description  was  adjourned,  as  it  now  proves,  forever. 
The  few  sentences  which  I  shall  add  to  what  is  already 
written  will  merely  apologize  for  my  sudden  disappear- 
ance, lest  the  clown's  "  Here  we  are "  should  find  a 
comic  pendant  in  my  "  Here  we  are  not." 

I  have  only  to  say  that  I  have  endeavored  in  good  faith 
to  set  down  this  simple  and  hurried  record  of  a  journey 
crowded  with  interests  and  pleasures.  I  was  afraid  to 
receive  so  freely  of  these  without  attempting  to  give  what 
I  could  in  return,  under   the   advantages  and  disadvan- 


304  FROM    THE    OAK    TO    THE    OLIVE. 

tagcs  of  immediate  transcription.  In  sketches  executed 
upon  the  spot,  one  liopes  that  the  vividness  of  the  im- 
pression under  which  one  hibors  may  atone  for  the  want 
of  finish  and  of  ehiboration.  If  read  at  all,  these  notes 
may  be  called  to  account  for  many  insufficiencies.  Some 
pages  may  appear  careless,  some  sentences  Qiiixotic. 
I  am  still  inclined  to  think  that  with  more  leisure  antl 
deliberation  I  should  not  have  done  the  work  as  well. 
I  should,  perhaps,  like  Tintoretto,  have  occupied  acres 
and  acres  of  attention  with  supcrtluous  delineation, 
putting,  as  he  did,  my  own  portrait  in  the  corner.  Re- 
joice, therefore,  good  reader,  in  my  limitations.  They 
are  your  enfranchisement. 

Touching  Qiiixotism,  I  will  plead  guilty  to  the  sound- 
ing of  various  parleys  before  some  stately  buildings 
and  unshaken  fortresses.  "  Who  is  this  that  blows 
so  sharp  a  summons?"  may  tlie  inmates  ask.  I  may 
answer,  "  One  who  believes  in  the  twelve  legions  of 
angels  that  wait  upon  the  endeavors  of  faithful  souls." 
Should  they  further  threaten  or  deride,  I  will  borrow 
Elizabeth  Browning's  sweet  refrain, — 

"  I  am  no  trumpet,  but  a  reed,"  — 

and  trust  not  to  become  a  broken  one. 

Conscious  of  my  many  shortcomings,  and  asking  at- 
tention only  for  the  message  I  have  tried  to  bring,  I  ask 
also  for  tliat  charity  which  recognizes  that  good  will  is 
the  best  part  of  action,  and  good  faith  the  first  condi- 
tion of  kjiowlediie. 


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